


I love time the most when I'm with you

by haline



Category: The Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare, The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angst, Childhood Friends AU, Childhood to Adulthood, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Underage Drinking, Unrequited Crush but not Really, happy ending I promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-06-01 09:54:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 51,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15140588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haline/pseuds/haline
Summary: “Promise we're not going to change? That we'll always be best friends?”“I promise,” Cristina says without second guessing.The one where Emma and Cristina feel things best friends really shouldn't feel.Or, Emma Carstairs is six years old when she meets Cristina Rosales, fourteen when she falls in love with her, and twenty six when she decides to let her go.





	1. i

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer i mainly started this because i wanted to try writing in present tense for a change but it ended up being super long so here you go, i apologize for any grammar slander that may occur. enjoy!

Emma Carstairs is six years old when she first meets Cristina Rosales.

“They moved in yesterday,” Julian says. He points to the house next door, where a nice-looking lady is tending to the garden. “Dad says they're from Mexico, and Mom wants to make cookies to welcome them.”

Emma squints, legs dangling from the edge of Julian's roof. Julian himself sits away from the edge with his legs carefully tucked underneath him. He's always telling Emma to be careful and not sit like that, but she never listens.

“Look!” She suddenly says, jumping to her feet. Julian's eyes widen.

“Emma, don't—”

“Hush.” She waves a hand at him, then points. “A girl!”

The girl is carrying two glasses of lemonade, one for the lady Emma assumes it's her mom. The mom smiles, and the girl sits on the sidewalk with her own glass.

“Yeah,” Julian says, sheepishly standing up as well, though he stays away from the edge of the roof. “She has no siblings.”

Julian says it like it's the most impossible, unthinkable thing in the world. Emma just shrugs.

“I'll say hi,” Emma says.

“Okay, I'll go with—Emma, don't!”

But Emma is already jumping from the roof to the nearest tree, ignoring Julian's protests. She'll be fine, it isn't the first time she climbs down this tree, and Julian worries too much.

She gives him a thumbs up once she hits the ground. Julian is so pale he looks like a ghost, and Emma can't help but grin.

She walks to the neighbor's house, and the girl sitting on the sidewalk looks up at her with squinted eyes, as if she was staring at the sun.

“Hi,” Emma says. She remembers to smile, because that's polite.

“Hello.”

“I'm Emma,” she says, sitting next to her. “What's your name?”

“Cristina.”

“Cristina,” Emma echoes, though it doesn't sound the same.

“Why are you in my garden?”

“I wanted to say hi.”

Cristina smiles. Emma has to blink twice. “Mamá says not to talk to strangers.”

“I'm not a stranger!” Emma frowns. “I live two houses down!”

“Oh okay,” Cristina says, then hands Emma her lemonade. “You want some?”

“Sure.” It's too sweet, just how Emma always makes it. “Do you want to come play with me and Jules?”

“Jules?”

“Yeah,” Emma says. “He's my best friend, he lives right there.”

“Oh okay,” Cristina says again. “I saw him yesterday, I think. I saw lots of kids.”

“Jules has a dozen siblings.” Emma laughs, and Cristina just stares.

“I don't have any.”

“Me neither.” Emma humms, taking another sip of lemonade. Cristina sits with her legs crossed, her long dark hair is tied in pigtails with red ribbons, and while watching her, Emma realizes something.

“We should be friends,” Emma says. “You seem really cool, so we should be friends.”

Cristina smiles again. She was missing a front tooth, just like Emma.

“Okay.”

 

* * *

 

“Do you know how to roller skate?”

Emma shrugs. “Yeah, it's easy.”

“It looks really hard.”

Emma takes Cristina’s hand and squeezes. “I'll be with you, Tina.”

Cristina smiles that smile that only ever shows up when Emma calls her that. At first, Cristina was puzzled—‘why would you shorten my name?’—but Emma never really liked the way Cristina’s name sounded when she said it.

“Okay girls,” says John Carstairs smiling at how tightly Emma and Cristina are holding hands. The image is funny, the two lanky girls with helmets a little too big for them and bright rolling skates holding hands like their lives depend on it. “Ready?”

“Wait!” says Emma's mom, Cordelia. “Wait, wait. Let me take a picture first.”

Emma and Cristina smile. They aren't missing teeth anymore.

“Don't let go of my hand,” Cristina whispers as they enter the skating rink. Many other kids are already there, and high pitched laughter fills Emma's ears.

Emma sees Julian and waves at him, he waves back. Mark, his oldest brother, is nudging Julian on the shoulder and trying to get him off balance.

Emma yearns to go to them, she likes racing with Mark, though he always wins, and she loves the beat of her heart as she gains speed.

But she has to hold Cristina’s hand.

Cristina holds onto Emma and onto the railing with her free hand, her legs quivering like jelly. She is so much shorter than Emma, all legs and spindly elbows and hair tied in red ribbons. Her hand feels soft and tiny against Emma’s warm palm.

“Tina,” Emma says, and immediately Cristina’s grip on her tightens, as if afraid Emma would let go. “You’re doing good, don’t worry.”

Cristina smiles and pushes hair out of her face. “Really?”

Emma returns the smile and points with her chin towards Cristina’s hand, which isn't gripping the railing for dear life anymore. “Yeah.”

Cristina widens her eyes and nearly stumbles, but Emma grabs her other hand and keeps her steady.

“See?” Emma says, carefully guiding Cristina away from the railing and around the slight curve of the rink. Cristina is so focused she doesn’t even look up, and her legs don't tremble anymore, and Emma is, for some reason, very proud of her. “You’re doing it.”

“ _We’re_ doing it,” Cristina says, tongue stuck to one side of her mouth as she concentrates. “You really are good at this, Emma.”

“Of course I am,” Emma says. “Do you want me to let go?”

She sees the panic flash on Cristina’s eyes and begins to take it back, but to her surprise, Cristina just nods, even as she takes a deep breath to gather courage. “Yeah.”

Slowly, Emma lets go.

Cristina wobbles a little, arms flailing, but she keeps her balance barely, though they stop moving near the center of the rink.

“Thanks,” Cristina says, standing just a little bit straighter. She smiles brightly, the way that reminds Emma of how sunshine feels like. Cristina is so sweet, like cotton candy, that’s why Emma likes spending so much time with her. “What now?”

“Now,” Emma says, glancing over Cristina’s shoulder to where Mark and Julian were still sort-of-wrestling each other, “I show you how _real_ skating is like.”

Cristina cheers for her when she races against Mark.

Emma wins for the first time.

 

* * *

 

“Are you scared?” Emma whispers in the dark of her room, and though the lights are off she can still see Cristina’s tiny body pressed against hers. They sleep in Emma’s twin bed, always, two heads on the same pillow, and Cristina’s knees dig onto Emma’s legs but she never says anything. She doesn’t mind.

“No,” Cristina whispers back, her breath smells of toothpaste and the chocolate Emma snuck into the room after dinner. “Because you’re going to be with me, right?”

“Yeah, Tina,” Emma says, grinning, but she isn’t sure if Cristina can see her. She hopes so. “Always.”

It’s the first time Emma is excited about a first day at school.

Cristina says first grade is scary, because she doesn't know anyone in the neighbourhood. Emma thinks first grade sounds exciting, especially if she's going to spend a lot more time with Cristina now.

They wait for the Blackthorns on Emma's backyard, and she reaches out to take Cristina’s hands and stop her from fumbling so much with her ribbons.

“Don't be nervous,” Emma says.

“Mamá says I have to cause a good impression.”

“Tina, that's what you do all the time!”

They walk to school together, holding hands, and they're supervised by Julian's older sister Helen, who is already in seventh grade, so she is basically an adult. Julian, Mark, and the little, wobbling twins follow in silence. The Blackthorns are not morning people, Emma knows that, and she isn’t either, but Cristina is too nervous for Emma to keep quiet.

So they talk all the way to school. And in school, they sit next to each other, and Cristina puts an unicorn sticker on Emma's desk and Emma giggles at how sparkly it is.

Later, on the playground, Emma jumps from the jungle gym and scrapes her knee. Julian frets, but is Cristina who sits with Emma on the infirmary, not caring that they missed the rest of recess.

 

* * *

 

It's three months into first grade when Emma gets in trouble.

Her dad says that it's a wonder she's lasted this long.

Cristina clings to her on the waiting room outside the principal’s office, nose buried on Emma's hair and scrawny arms wrapped around her like she wants to protect her from the world.

“I don't want you to get expelled,” Cristina sniffles.

Emma wants to laugh, say that she's definitely not going to get expelled. Who could expel Emma Carstairs from their school?

What comes out it's entirely different from what she wants to say.

“Me neither.”

Emma is surprised at how her voice sounds. It's not like her. It's a fragile, trembling thing. Not like the Emma Carstairs that had punched a boy in the face.

Emma sits on the principal’s office with her dad next to her. The principal explains the incident with a lot of seriousness, Emma doesn't think she's ever seen Mr. Dearborn smile. Ever.

Dad nods, equally serious, but his eyes gleam with mirth. Emma's seen that expression before, when Mom tells her not to sneak chocolates into her bedroom. Dad always laughs and gives Emma a thumbs up when Mom isn’t looking.

“It won't happen again,” Dad tells Mr. Dearborn. “But to be fair, that kid had it coming.”

Mr. Dearborn’s eyes grow cold like ice and Dad just smiles and tugs Emma out of the room. Cristina sits next to the door with her legs tucked against her chest. She should be in class.

Instead, she jumps to her feet to hug Emma.

“It's okay Tina,” Emma says, patting Cristina’s back and breathing in her smell, roses and too many candies, it makes Emma's stomach flip flop for some reason. “I'm not getting expelled.”

Dad laughs and strokes Emma's hair, then Cristina’s. “Of course not, sweetheart. That kid _did_ had it coming after all.”

 

* * *

 

Rumors spread after that. They say that Emma Carstairs is the strongest kid in the school. They say that Emma Carstairs told Mr. Dearborn he was an A word. They say Emma Carstairs is secretly a superhero.

They say Emma Carstairs will punch anyone that hurts Cristina Rosales.

 

* * *

 

Cristina and Emma hold hands to school every day.

 

* * *

 

Emma giggles as the wind blows her hair. The swing is already going very fast, but she wants more. She kicks her legs frantically, leaning her body forward and backward to get faster. To get _higher._

“Emma, you're going to hurt yourself!”

Cristina’s voice disappears in the wind. She gets worried. She gets too worried. She's a lot like Julian.

Emma closes her eyes and feels her stomach drop as she goes down, then up again, then down, then up again. When she's in that point, at the highest she can possibly be, all she sees is the blue sky. She feels like a warrior.

With a grunt, she jumps.

 

* * *

 

Cristina watches her best friend soar through the sky and, for a second, she believes Emma is invincible.

 

* * *

 

Cordelia Carstairs sighs as Julian and Cristina fight over who should be the first one to draw on the cast on Emma's leg.

Cristina wins, but is Julian who gets to draw on the cast on Emma's wrist first.

“You know when she was born,” Cordelia whispered, “and you told me she was like an angel?”

John chuckles, wrapping one arm around his wife's waist and kissing her on the temple. “Yeah, I remember.”

“You were wrong,” she says. “I think she may be more of a little demon.”

 

* * *

 

Emma's reputation grows even more after she arrives to school with _two_ casts, one on her right leg, one on her left wrist.

Cristina takes notes for her, and Julian doodles a lot on her casts. Emma even lets the twins write on them. Ty draws a simple square, and Livvy signs with her name and flowers. Cameron Ashdown draws a firetruck, and Rayan Maduabuchi draws dragons. Zara Dearborn doesn't even look at Emma.

Cameron whispers that Emma broke her wrist wrestling with Jace Lightwood, the boy who was in fifth grade and played for the football team. Cameron also whispers Emma broke her leg because she's a better football player than Jace Lightwood.

Everyone believes him, and every time Emma says is true Cristina chuckles under her breath.

 

* * *

 

It's the fifth day of fourth grade and Julian's mom gets sick. Emma's dad says it doesn't look good, and Cristina’s mom offers to take care of the kids while Julian's parents go to the doctor.

They go to the doctor a lot.

Emma hugs Jules when no one is looking and plays with Dru like nothing is wrong. She tiptoes over baby Tavvy’s crib and makes faces at him, and she helps Cristina’s mom make lemonade for everyone.

“These are hard times for that family,” she says as she squeezes the lemons. She never lets Emma do it. “We have to be there for them, Emma dear.”

Emma has known the Blackthorns all her life. She lives next to them, and their house is home, too. This is weird, and a strange pressure settles on her stomach. Maybe she’s growing sick. Too much sugar on the lemonade.

Cristina takes Emma's hands and looks into her eyes and Emma is definitely sure she's sick, because her breath caughts in her throat, and Cristina’s eyes are the color of tea and honey.

“It's going to be okay, Emma.”

She's the only one who says that to Emma, and Emma isn't sure why she wants to cry.

 

* * *

 

Emma is watching Helen braid little Dru’s hair and she's thinking that they look different.

Helen is in high school now, and Dru is in kindergarten. Emma touches her own face absentmindedly, then her hair. She wonders if she looks different.

Dru looks less like a baby and more like a kid now, Emma’s mom is always saying how Drusilla grows fast for her age, and she is all round cheeks and soft skin and perfect braids.

Helen certainly looks older. Like a teenager. Her hair is long and thin, curled in ringlets, and her eyes the color of the ocean in sunlight; her face delicate and pretty.

Emma doesn't think she looks different herself.

Emma doesn't know why she _feels_ different though. Not much, just a small tingle on her skin, a buzz on her chest, and it happens every time she looks at Helen.

“Ems,” Helen says and her voice snaps Emma out of her thoughts. “You want your hair done, too?”

Emma, for some reason, loses all words.

Drusilla answers for her. “Yes! Matching!”

Helen works on Emma's hair like she wants to forget something else, like she just doesn't want to think. Her fingers are careful and expert, and Emma hums under her breath. She doesn't know why it feels different, Helen's braided her hair countless times, but now it's just—better.

Emma stops wondering.

 

* * *

 

“I can't,” Jules says, and Emma starts. Jules _never_ refuses to play thieves and cops with her. “I have to go to the hospital.”

Emma’s heart breaks. “Yeah.”

 

* * *

 

It's the fifth month of fourth grade and Julian stops going to class. Emma's mom says Eleanor Blackthorn may not recover.

 

* * *

 

The rose garden on Cristina’s house is gorgeous.

Emma stands there, staring at the red flowers, and wonders why the world has to be so cruel.

 

* * *

 

It's the last week of summer before middle school, and Julian's mom passes away.

 

* * *

 

Emma has never seen such sadness before.

She holds Julian's hand as they lower his mother's coffin to the ground, and he cries in an ugly way that rattles him from the inside.

All the Blackthorns are crying. Dru and Livvy inconsolably, Ty angrily, Julian devastatingly, Mark and Helen silently. Even Tavvy, the baby too young to understand anything, is crying.

And Andrew Blackthorn is clutching at his chest as if someone had clawed out his heart.

Emma wonders if this is heartbreak and how it looks like.

After the funeral, Emma sits on the bathroom of Julian's house and cries, her legs curled against her chest, she cries everything she held inside while watching Julian cry for his mom to come back.

It is a lot of tears.

Cristina finds her five minutes later.

“Emma,” she whispers frantically, “what's going on?”

“I—” Emma swallows. Cristina is crouching in front of her, soothing hands running over Emma's wrists and hair. “I don't know.”

Cristina wipes Emma's tears and kisses her cheeks and Emma just collapses and collapses more.

 

* * *

 

Jules doesn't talk anymore.

Emma and Cristina still walk to school together, but the Blackthorns are now going to three different schools, and their Dad takes them on his car.

“I know why I was crying,” Emma breathes out and it's like a weight lifting and a weight settling.

Cristina doesn't say anything, just squeezes Emma's hand.

“I'm scared.”

“You're never scared.”

Emma grimaces. She's not sure if she still likes everyone thinking that, especially not Cristina. “I'm scared things are getting different. I don't think Jules likes me anymore.”

“Of course he does,” says Cristina with all confidence in the world. “You guys are best friends, and best friends always like each other.”

“But he doesn't talk to me.”

“Because he's so sad, Emma. His mom—”

“I know.” Emma rubs her eyes. She can see the school’s entrance in the distance. Middle school. First day. Suddenly Emma isn't excited. “Let's skip class today.”

Cristina’s eyes widen, as expected. “But it's the first day! And we're on a new school.”

“You're right. It's stupid.”

Quickly Cristina spins around and clasps Emma by both shoulders. “It's a great idea,” she says. “Let's do it.”

Emma is so dumbfounded she doesn't even notice Cristina tugging her in another direction. Away from the school and running children and ringing bells.

 

* * *

 

They put their lunch money together and sneak into an empty pizza place where the cashier thinks it's still summer. They share Cristina’s homemade lunch and use the money for candies and the arcade.

They run out of coins quickly, but still eat more sugar than they should. No more money means no more arcade, and Emma sulks all the way out because Cristina beat her on Mortal Kombat.

When Cristina giggles and wraps her arms around Emma, she stops sulking.

They end up in an empty park, and after hours and hours of running around the playground Emma takes Cristina’s hand and they run to the woods behind it.

They take sticks and rocks and pretend to be warriors and, for only seconds, they're invincible.

They lie together on the dirt, shoulder to shoulder, breathing in sync as exhaustion seeps through them. Emma watches the sun filter through the leaves and for a moment, as Cristina hums a breathless song, she forgets her sadness.

“You were wrong.”

Cristina looks at her.

“When you said Jules was my best friend. I mean, he is, but you're my _best_ best friend.”

“That's not a thing!”

“Is!”

Cristina laughs and nudges Emma on the arm and Emma doesn't know why she wants Cristina’s hand to linger. “Then you're my best best friend too.”

Emma turns to her side and sticks and leaves scratch her back but she doesn't care. She stares at Cristina and for some reason her heart beats too fast, like she's afraid of something. Emma thinks it's just because she's afraid of getting caught.

“And you'll always like me, Tina?”

Cristina also rolls to her side and she holds Emma's gaze as she always does and smiles and Emma can't look away.

“Of course, that's what best best friends do.”

“You're pretty,” Emma says and cleans some dirt from under Cristina’s eye.

“You're pretty too, Emma,” Cristina says happily and kisses Emma’s cheek. “My mom says you're gonna be beautiful when you grow up, but I think you already are.”

Emma’s chest fills with warmth. “Promise we're not going to change? That we'll always be best friends?”

“I promise,” Cristina says without second guessing. She kisses Emma on the corner of her mouth this time and they are both too tired to say anything. “I promise, Emma.”

 

* * *

 

When they get home, all dirty sneakers and messy hair and stained clothes, they get in a lot of trouble, but they don't mind.

 

* * *

 

Emma doesn't like middle school.

It's big and messy and it smells bad. And here the kids don't know of the things she's done except for Cameron Ashdown and somehow after two days in school everyone in the sixth grade had donned him a loser, and Emma Carstairs does not hang with losers.

She doesn't see Julian much, but the worst part is that she doesn't see Cristina _at all._

They only share two classes, and except for lunch there are days where they don't even see each other.

Emma sulks in math and doesn't pay attention in science, and she thinks the other classes are just as dumb.

“That's not good, Emma, how are we going to do homework together if you don't know anything?”

Emma stops complaining.

 

* * *

 

“Hey,” Julian says one day as Emma waits for Cristina on their lunch table.

Emma perks up. “Hey,” she says, a little too brightly, but Jules smiles. It's been a while since she's seen him smile. It's been a while since she's seen him at all.

“Can I sit with you guys today?”

“Yeah.”

“Middle school is dumb.”

Emma laughs. “Yeah.”

 

* * *

 

Emma makes it to the volleyball team, even if she's the youngest one there.

Coach Fade is a strange guy, and the team isn't even very good, but Emma is the star.

They win practice matches because of her, and then they win friendly matches because of her. In the middle of the school year, they win tournament matches because of her.

Dad puts her on his shoulders and cheers when Emma gets to hold her first real prize, and Mom beams with an intensity that makes Emma go blind.

Once Emma is on the ground she is attacked by Cristina and her bear hugs.

“I'm sweaty,” Emma complains as Cristina buries her face on her neck.

“I don't care. You're amazing!”

Emma relaxes and holds Cristina as best she can while awkwardly holding a small trophy. Emma knows what the actual award really is.

 

* * *

 

Emma notices Cristina staring too much at Rayan Maduabuchi and she doesn't know why it makes her angry.

Emma likes Rayan, he's very nice, but she doesn't like the way Cristina giggles when he says a joke that's not funny or why she sighs when he walks around the corner.

“Emma,” Julian calls, waving a hand in front of her face. “Are you listening?”

Emma frowns and looks away from where Cristina and Rayan are talking. He's leaning against the lockers and grinning and Cristina is looking away, blushing.

Julian looks at her with puzzled eyes until he notices what Emma is noticing. “Oh. I heard Rayan likes Cristina.”

“Everyone likes Cristina.”

“But I mean— _likes_ her. He has a crush on her.”

Understanding unfolds within Emma, accompanied with something else. All of a sudden she feels the need to punch Rayan in the face.

“Does she have a crush on him?”

“How would I know?”

“You're best friends,” Julian says like the most obvious thing in the world. “She would've told you.”

Emma watches as Rayan says another thing that makes Cristina smile the smile Emma thought was only reserved for her.

“She hasn't.”

 

* * *

 

On Valentine’s day Rayan Maduabuchi gives Cristina a pink heart of paper mache and she blushes and gives him a kiss on the cheek.

On Valentine’s day Emma skips her last class and goes to the park on her own. She gets lost in the woods for hours.

 

* * *

Emma’s arms hurt, and her skin is red all over.

“Why don't you take a break, Emma?” Couch Fade says, eyebrows down in concern. Emma hates that look. “Your friend is here to see you.”

Emma yanks a towel and a water bottle and stalks to the entrance of the gym, muttering words her mom told her to never use.

“Emma!”

Emma doesn't stop and pushes her way into the locker rooms. Her blood is boiling and her arms hurt and she bruised her knees too much. And she's so angry, and she doesn't know why.

“Emma.”

She turns to see Cristina and waits for the anger to disappear. Whenever Cristina is around Emma always feels better—except for today.

“What?” She snaps, and her heart drops a little at Cristina’s hurt expression.

“Are you okay?”

Emma scoffs. “What do you care?”

Cristina takes a step back as if Emma had slapped her. “What do you mean? Of course I care!”

“Are you sure you don't care about Rayan more?”

The words sting Emma's tongue and she thinks she sees how they sting Cristina but instead of lashing out or yelling, Cristina simply—laughs.

“Don't be stupid,” she says. “Why would I care about him? He's just a boy, but you're my best friend!”

Emma isn't convinced and her frown only disappears when Cristina crosses the locker room to pull Emma into a tight hug that leaves them both breathless.

“I'm sweaty,” Emma says but still buries her nose in Cristina’s rose-scented hair and Cristina still clings to her for dear life and Emma feels her anger disappear like cotton candy on her mouth.

“I don't care,” Cristina says, then takes one of Emma's arms, all red and burning from hitting the ball over and over, and runs soft fingers over the sensitive skin. “You train too hard.”

“Have to.”

Cristina smiles. It is the smile Emma loves so much, and seeing it this close she realizes that it _is_ just for her.

“Do you have a crush on Rayan?”

Cristina scrunches her face. “I think so. Is that okay? “

“I guess.”

“It doesn't matter,” Cristina says. “I'm not going to stop being your best friend, never.”

“You promise?”

“I _swear._ ”

Emma believes her.

 

* * *

 

“Helen,” Emma says as she climbs into the car, tossing her duffel bag into the backseat. “Can we get ice cream?”

Helen grins and pops a gum bubble. “I suppose. I mean, you _did_ win that game basically on your own.”

Emma laughs. Perhaps a little too loudly, and she doesn't know why her face suddenly feels so hot. “It was a practice game! Not a real thing.”

“You still played very well,” Helen says. “You deserve that ice cream.”

“Thanks,” Emma says, suddenly feeling breathless. “And thanks for picking me up.”

“Sure Ems,” Helen says with a smile that shines a bit too brightly.

Emma watches Helen out of the corner of her eye. She doesn't know why she likes the way Helen's hair curls at the tips, or the way it turns to silver with the sunlight. She doesn't know why she notices the way the strap of Helen's tank top slides down her shoulder just a bit, or why she finds so pretty how red lipstick looks on her.

Helen’s pretty. Very pretty. At first, Emma thought she liked staring at her so much because she wanted to look just as pretty, but now she's sure there's something else.

There _has_ to be an explanation for why she feels so fuzzy and excited when she looks at Helen or why she's noticing all those weird things, why her stomach feels all butterfly-nervous and why she can't seem to control her words very well whenever she's around.

Emma hasn't found the reason just yet.

 

* * *

 

“We should be astronauts,” Emma says one night.

They're on Emma's backyard, huddling in a single sleeping bag outside of their tent because they want to see the stars.

Emma stares at the stars, but Cristina stares at Emma.

The night is warm and Cristina feels fuzzy and dazzled by the huge amount of chocolate they just consumed and the drowsiness of exhaustion. She notices, not for the first time, that Emma is very pretty.

“Tina,” Emma says, “are you alright?”

“Emma you suck at science,” Cristina says. “You can't be an astronaut.”

Emma turns with a frown and nudges Cristina on the arm, Cristina nudges back, and quickly enough they're struggling inside the sleeping back and Cristina is laughing and Emma is basically pinning her down to the ground.

After a year or so of constant volleyball, Emma has grown very strong.

“Say that again.”

“You suck at science,” Cristina says through her giggles.

“Yeah well you suck at—I'm sure you suck at something!”

Cristina tries to shove Emma away from her, which results in another short lived wrestling match. It doesn't last.

Cristina is too tired to push Emma away, and apparently Emma is too tired to move, so they just stay there, with Emma's hipbone digging into Cristina’s stomach and their arms and legs tangled together in a sleeping bag that is growing warmer and warmer.

“I lied,” Cristina whispers, stroking Emma’s hair. It’s so fine and thin, so easily tangled. “You can do anything you want, Emma.”

“I want to know what's going on with me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don't know.”

“You can talk to me.”

Emma looks at her sadly, something gleaming on her brown eyes, something that aren't quite tears but resemble. Cristina feels her body slowly relaxing, and she wonders if she's going numb because of Emma’s weight.

“I don't think so, Tina.”

They fall asleep like that.

 

* * *

 

“Jules,” Emma says as she watches him pour some paint on a giant canvas so baby Tavvy can play with it. “Have you ever had a crush?”

He looks up and scratches his chin, smudging blue paint on his skin. Jules looks so much better now, Helen cut his hair recently, and he is eating well again, but there is still a tinge of sadness on his eyes. Not evident to anyone who didn't know him well.

“Not really,” he says, shrugging. “Why?”

Emma shrugs back. “I want to know what it feels like.”

Julian stops for a moment, then brights up. “Wait. I do have a crush!”

“What? Tell me!”

“Yeah,” he says, grinning goofily. “You know Jace Lightwood, right?”

Emma can't help the strange look that crosses her face.

“Not _him!_ ” Julian yells. “His sister Isabelle! She's really, really pretty!”

“There are rumors she's dating a vampire.”

Julian's eyes gleam. “I know!”

“Okay,” Emma says carefully, scared of what she may unleash on Julian. “Do you even know her?”

“Yeah. Helen is friends with the Lightwoods, they go to the same school.”

Tavvy throws a paintbrush against the wall and proceeds to get his fingers on the paint. It splatters on the walls and floor, but Jules doesn't seem to care.

“So, how does it feel to have a crush?”

Jules grows pensive again. “It's like—The other day she stopped by to talk to Helen, and I stumbled into her. I just—I was so nervous, I don't know. She made my stomach go all butterflies.”

Emma freezes and holds her breath.

“And she looked at me and I blushed. It was weird. Helen laughed at me for a long time, and Mark laughed even longer.”

Emma lets out her breath, but it doesn't calm her.

“It's weird,” Julian repeats, in case it wasn't clear before. “I couldn't talk around her, I just went to my room. She's really pretty, Em.”

Emma blinks and is suddenly injected with a strange urge to _get away._ She stands and smiles to Julian and says she needs to go and rushes out of the studio.

She holds a hand to her chest and ignores Julian calling her name.

Emma runs all the way home.

 

* * *

 

“Tina,” Emma says as she watches Cristina diligently pour water over her mom’s rose garden. “Do you like Rayan?”

Cristina doesn't glance at her. “This again? Emma, I told you—”

“You told me you were always going to be my friend. And I believe you. I just—I want to know, because best friends talk about this, right?”

“I suppose—”

“Are you his girlfriend?”

“No!” Cristina says quickly. “Emma, we're just twelve.”

“But I thought you liked him.”

Cristina wrinkles her nose like she smelled something weird. “I don't know. He's nice but he's not—He kissed me on Friday.”

Emma is sitting on a small foldable chair and she almost falls to the grass. “What?”

She thinks something bad happened to her, because her heart stutters and it hurts just a tad, like a needle.

“I mean uh—how was it?”

“Okay I guess. Very awkward. We're not gonna do it again, I think, it was weird.”

“Oh.” Emma’s heart leaps happily, just a little, and she still isn't sure why.

“Why do you care so much?”

“We're best friends,” Emma says. “We tell each other everything.”

Her own words feel so hollow. More and more Emma is learning that that's simply not how the world works.

Judging by the strange look on Cristina’s eyes, she's learning that too.

 

* * *

 

The world makes a little more sense to Emma when Helen Blackthorn comes home with a girlfriend.

There is a deep feeling of _“Oh”_ surging from within Emma, and as she watches Helen and Aline hold hands she thinks that, yes, that makes sense.

The reason. There it is.

Things fall in place and fall apart.

She knows now why she feels funny around Helen. She still doesn't know why she feels funny around Cristina.

Emma thinks that having a crush and loving your best friend are not so different after all.

 

* * *

 

“What are we going to do in high school?” Cristina muses one day during lunch.

Emma picks apart her disgusting burger and sighs, eyeing Cristina’s homemade lunch.

Cristina smiles and slides her tupperware to the space between them, and her smile only widens when Emma reaches for tamales.

“Emma,” Cristina says, “did you hear me?”

“Yeah,” Emma says through a mouthful. “What do you mean what are we going to do?”

“Don't speak with your mouth full! Gross.”

Emma sticks her tongue out.

“Do you think they'll take me on the volleyball team?”

“Of course they will,” Cristina says. “You're great.”

“Dad says that if I really like volleyball I can get a college scholarship. I don't know what that is.”

“It means you'll be so good you won't have to pay for college—I think.”

“Ohhh. You think I'm good enough for that?”

“You're more than just good enough. For everything.”

Emma smiles. “And what are you going to do?”

“I don't know.”

“We'll figure it out together, Tina.”

 

* * *

 

Emma stumbles into the kitchen hoping to find Julian but finds someone else instead.

It's not the first time she sees Helen's girlfriend, Aline, but for some reason Emma freezes in the doorway this time, wondering if she should just walk away.

It’s Sunday morning, and Aline is making coffee and yawning and wearing pajamas and something about the situation makes Emma blush very deeply.

“Good morning loser,” someone claps Emma on the back and bursts into the kitchen. Mark. He's tall and thin and his hair curls on the back of his neck and he's wearing sport clothes and he's sweaty. He starts when he notices Aline. “Ah… That was not for you.”

Emma recovers quickly and jumps onto Mark’s back. “Don't call me a loser, loser!”

She clings to him as he grunts and yells and Emma just giggles.

“You're an annoying little thing,” Mark says, spinning uncontrollably to get Emma to let go. She doesn't.

“What's going on?” Julian's sleepy voice sounds from the kitchen's entryway and it draws Emma's attention long enough for her fingers to slip. Mark catches her, rather clumsily, and Emma ends up hitting her elbow with the kitchen counter.

“Are you alright runt?”

“Don't call me runt.” Emma pouts.

“Don't call her runt!” says Julian at the same time.

Mark snickers and Julian tackles him and Mark just stands there like he can't be moved at all so Emma tackles him too.

And she laughs and laughs and laughs until someone clears their throat.

“It's nine in the morning,” Helen mumbles, holding Tavvy in her arms and thoroughly ignoring the way he pulls on her messy hair. “How are you all so chirpy?”

Aline, who had stayed in a quiet corner, brights up and pushes a steaming mug of coffee on Helen's hand and gives her a kiss on the cheek and Helen smiles and Emma is overwhelmed and has to look away.

“Em?” Jules asks in a tiny voice and Emma pretends to just be rubbing her elbow.

Emma skips breakfast that day.

 

* * *

 

“Are you going to miss me when I go to college?”

Emma stares at the blue polish Helen is delicately putting on her nails and tries very hard not to stare at Helen herself. “No. I'm going to miss you painting my nails and doing my hair.”

“Aw, Ems, that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me.”

Emma laughs. “And are you going to miss me?”

“Of course I am. I'm going to miss you all.”

“But you'll miss me the most?”

“Sure,” Helen says.

“I know you don't mean that.”

“Then you shouldn't have asked.”

“I'm hurt,” Emma says. “You're hurting me. Can I least still text you from time to time?”

“Of course. Whenever you want.”

Emma purses her lips and considers something for a moment. Now that she knows what she knows, she figures it's time to talk to Helen about it.

“Helen, how did you know you liked girls?”

Helen doesn't seem surprised that Emma is asking that, and somehow it works to make Emma more nervous and more calm at the same time.

“Mmm, I'm not sure. You know what they say about the butterflies on your stomach when you like someone?”

Emma swallows and tries not to think of staring at Helen for too long and noticing too many things about her. She tries not to think about Cristina holding her hands and kissing her cheeks and sleeping next to her on a bed that's too small for two.

“I guess.”

Helen smiles. “Well, I just realized it happened with girls, too.”

She makes it sound too simple and Emma knows is because Helen still thinks she's a child.

“And it's okay, right?” Emma asks in a thin voice and she's afraid of the answer (any answer) but Helen smiles again and brushes hair out of Emma's face and nods.

“Yes, Ems, of course it's okay.”

Emma doesn't know why those words resonate in her head the rest of the day.

 

* * *

 

“What's going on sweetpea?” Dad asks as he tucks Emma in her bed. It's been a while since he's done that, but tonight Emma doesn't feel like a baby, she just feels secure.

“Nothing.”

“C’mon, I know you.” He boops her nose and smiles like there isn't a single thing wrong with the world. “Something’s bothering you.”

“Dad,” Emma says very quietly, and she doesn't know what she's doing. “What if I had a crush on a girl the way Helen does?”

Dad chuckles immediately and kisses Emma's forehead and Emma braces herself for him to think she's just joking.

“That'd be okay sweetheart.”

Emma only sees sincerity in her dad's eyes and the breath she lets out ripples her from within.

 

* * *

 

It's the last game Emma is going to play for her small middle school volleyball team.

It's a final, but not a lot of people are watching, because—and this came as a shock to Emma—middle school volleyball just isn't very popular.

She could still spot her parents, and the Blackthorns, a long row of dark hair only disrupted by Helen and Mark. Cristina sits next to Julian and Emma can almost hear the two of them shouting her name every once in a while.

“Alright,” says the coach, clapping his hands. “No pressure girls, just do your best.”

He always says that, and Emma always finds it silly. How could she play with no pressure, when so many eyes were on her?

As she prepares to serve, she meets Cristina’s gaze, and it feels very intense in the small, smelly gym. Cristina smiles at her with pride and encouragement and Emma freezes for a few seconds as something sweet flutters in her chest like butterfly wings.

There is silence in Emma’s ears. The lights disappear, the ball in her hands dissolves to dust, and the people around her vanish. There's just Cristina, and Emma can't look away from her.

The whistle snaps her back to reality like hitting a wall face-first. Emma can't find her breath, but she forces herself to.

She does her serve, and thirty minutes later she hugs Cristina with a trophy in her hands.

 

* * *

 

There is a party later, and Emma walks to Julian's house with fresh clothes and hair still damp from a shower, her hands and arms still sting just a bit from the game, but her heart is buzzing and she's excited.

Cristina is already there, and she smiles radiantly and her hair is down and she looks like sunshine.

Helen drives them to Cameron Ashdown’s house and tells them she'll pick them up at 10. (When the three of them complain Helen winks and Emma knows she'll be there at 11.)

“Emma!” Cameron greets her with a tight hug and Emma laughs. Somehow between sixth grade and now he lost the mantle of loser and was now very popular. “Congratulations!”

Cameron’s parents rush from one corner of the room to another carrying drinks and food and pushing their young daughter upstairs.

“Come!”

Emma gets shoved among Cameron’s friends and they all clap her in the back and cheer her name, and then she’s thrust with the other boys and girls that play on the school’s teams. Before Emma realizes, she’s lost track of Cristina and Julian.

For some reason Emma doesn’t mind as much as she should. She gets lost in the praise and the laughter and the people saying her name like she’s some sort of miracle. She catches only a glimpse of Julian as he sits down on the couch to play Xbox with some other kids.

Emma doesn’t know where Cristina is, but when she passes Julian he tells her that Cristina is with her friends from the debate team and Emma gives him a thumbs up.

She spends her night telling Cameron what to play on the speakers and listening to people talk about sports and high school and videogames. Emma doesn’t know why Cameron doesn’t leave her side but for some reason she doesn’t mind, he’s nice, and he’s always the first to defend Emma from anything and say how awesome she is.

By the end of the night Cameron holds her hand and Emma doesn’t know what to do.

“Emma,” Julian interrupts just as Emma is looking for an excuse to either run away or punch Cameron in the face. Emma could kiss Julian in that moment, and she feels extremely grateful. “Helen’s here.”

Cameron smiles at her and Emma still doesn’t know what to do and just smiles back before rushing out with Julian, her heart pounds, and her face feels hot, but she isn’t sure if it’s for the right reasons or not.

“Did you guys have fun?” Helen asks as they climb into the car, Emma and Cristina on the backseat and Julian next to his sister.

Cristina and Julian get on an explanation of the night and Emma just stares at the window and feels her hand tingle.

She gets home and Cristina asks her if she wants to have a sleepover.

She says no.

 

* * *

 

Next day she meets Cameron during lunch and smiles at him and says yes when he asks her if she wants to sneak out because Emma always says yes to getting in trouble.

Cameron seems nervous and Emma knows enough now to understand why. She finds that she doesn't mind, and she is the one who reaches for his hand this time and she tells herself it's fine. And it really is fine.

Cameron kisses her clumsily and Emma kisses him back clumsily and she tells herself that it's nice, she reminds herself to close her eyes and she even enjoys how Cameron smells of apples.

For some reason, Emma doesn't want to tell Cristina.

 

* * *

 

“Are you still nervous about high school?” Emma asks as the credits start rolling on the screen.

Cristina yawns and stretches and her shirt rolls up her stomach and Emma has to look away, suddenly very much aware she and Cristina are way too close on this small couch.

“A bit,” Cristina mumbles, turning towards Emma and adjusting the blanket they're sharing. “And you?”

“Nah.”

“Emma.”

“Maybe a bit, too,” she says.

At this point sleepovers before the first day of school are tradition, but Emma can't remember if she always felt this way.

Cristina climbs on top of Emma and Emma giggles, though they're not kids anymore, and when Cristina kisses Emma’s cheek it doesn't feel as innocent as it should.

“Emma Carstairs nervous about something, who would've thought.”

“Let's go to sleep,” Emma says, carefully pushing Cristina away from her and standing up from the couch, perhaps a bit too quickly.

“So early?”

“We have class tomorrow.”

Cristina shrugs. “That's never stopped you before.”

Emma’s heart is beating fast like a drum, but she still lets Cristina intertwine their fingers together as they go upstairs. She still lets Cristina brush their shoulders together. She still lets Cristina hug her from behind as she opens the door.

Emma is nearly breathless by the time they make it to her room.

Cristina turns off the lights and Emma is grateful, that way she can hide her blush, which only deepens when Cristina takes her hand again and they settle on the bed.

Emma’s twin bed grows even smaller each year. Emma can't remember the time where they could both fit in it and still have space.

Cristina sits with her back against the headboard and Emma sits next to her, figuring they're not going to go to sleep right now. Their thighs brush and their shoulders brush and their hands brush.

Cristina hums under her breath and when Emma closes her eyes she can almost see them many years ago, when everything was much simpler, when Emma didn't have these feelings she could barely put a name to.

“Emma,” Cristina says. “Have you ever kissed a girl?”

A shock runs through Emma like electricity, and for long painful seconds she can't think very well.

“I—” She swallows. “No. Why?”

“I was just wondering if it felt different from boys.”

“Tina do you—I mean, do you like girls, too?”

“Yeah.”

The word is small and simple and it slips out of Cristina’s mouth with a type of confidence that makes Emma's heart flutter.

“Oh. I do too, I think.”

“Really?” Cristina smiles, but she doesn't look particularly surprised. Cristina always looks like she knows everything about everyone, but Emma reads her well, she _knows_ the slight change in her voice. She doesn't completely understand what it means.

“Yeah.”

Cristina hums and considers for a second. A second where she doesn't stare at Emma but at the darkness of the room ahead. And Emma stares at her and has to take a deep breath, her stomach twists with nerves and fear and the anticipation of—something she doesn't even want to admit to herself.

Then, Cristina turns towards her, still smiling, and even in the dark Emma sees amusement gleaming on her eyes. “So,” Cristina says, “do you want to kiss me?”

_Yes._

“But you're my best friend,” Emma breathes out and her voice wobbles and she knows it's a stupid excuse, because Cristina raises her eyebrows and leans closer.

“So what? That's better, because it won't be awkward. We'll still be friends, right?”

“We will,” Emma says. “Of course we will. But I mean—” Emma shuts her mouth and watches Cristina and her heart leaps. She thinks that best friends shouldn't want to kiss each other _this_ much.

Emma leans towards Cristina without saying anything and catches just a glimpse of Cristina’s smile trembling before their lips press together.

There is a moment of quiet not only in Emma's room but in her heart as well, and she thinks that maybe this is the second she would like to freeze and remember for the rest of her life.

The moment is gone, broken by the soft whimper that comes from Cristina’s throat. She pushes forward against Emma’s mouth and her hands tangle on Emma's hair and Emma thinks that kissing your best friend shouldn't feel _this_ good.

Emma grips the sheets underneath her because she needs support, even more so when Cristina sighs and Cristina runs a hand over Emma's jaw and Cristina kisses her the way best friends shouldn't kiss each other.

Finally is Emma who pulls away, struggling to breathe, struggling to get rid of the butterflies on her stomach and on her chest and struggling to ignore the way her cheeks feel like they're on fire.

The magnitude of what just happened, the magnitude of the realization, is too big for Emma’s tiny dark room.

“How was that?” She asks though she doesn't stare at Cristina and she resists the urge to touch her lips.

“Mmm. Different than boys, definitely.”

Emma feels her mouth go dry. “Better?”

“I'm not sure. Just—different.”

Cristina’s voice falters but Emma doesn't notice.

“Oh.”

“What about you?” Cristina asks. “Better or worse?”

Emma thinks that she could kiss all the boys in the world and still not feel anything close to _this._

Cristina thinks that it's not a matter of boys or girls it's just a matter of Emma and her pretty eyes and prettier smile.

“I'm not sure either,” Emma says.

They both shrug like nothing is wrong and go to sleep. It's a small bed, but they still manage not to touch.

Neither of them sleep that night, and they're sleepy through the entire first day of high school.

They don't mention the kiss again.


	2. ii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait! enjoy :)

Emma Carstairs is fourteen years old when she realizes she's in love with Cristina Rosales. 

It's dumb. It's really dumb. Cristina is her best friend, and best friends can't fall in love with each other. It never ends well. 

As freshman year flies by Emma realizes that this isn't just a crush. Helen was just a crush. Cameron was just a crush. Emma knows now that those crushes were dumb, too, but with Cristina is different.

Emma knows it's dumb, but for some reason she can't let it go. And she wants so badly to let it go, she wants so badly to just look at Cristina and not feel all the butterflies and the nervousness.

Emma misses just being best friends with Cristina, but she isn't sure if they were ever normal best friends to begin with. 

Looking back, Emma doesn't think there was ever a time where she  _ didn't  _ have more than an innocent crush on her best friend. 

She watches Cristina water the roses on her mother’s garden and wonders how can she be so pretty when doing such a simple, mundane task, but the imperceptible smile on her lips and the slightly messy braid and the way she hums under her breath is hypnotizing to Emma, who sits on the sidewalk and remembers the first time she met Cristina.

She's so different now, Emma blinks and Cristina is no longer the gangly kid with red ribbons on her hair, she's much taller now, as tall as Emma, and her hair is nearly to her hips. She doesn't wear ribbons anymore, but she still has the same kind eyes that drew Emma in the first place.

“See something you like?” 

Cristina’s voice makes Emma jolt like cold water. She licks her lips and realizes she's been staring at her for way too long.

“I just see a nerd with dirt on her shirt,” Emma says and Cristina sticks her tongue at her before returning to her watering duties. 

And Emma just returns to longing, and she thinks that freshman year is not going to be as great as she thought. 

 

* * *

 

“What do you think?” 

“Jules,” Emma says as gently as she can, “it looks like you put the canvas on a blender and then threw some paint on it.”

Julian sighs. “I know. I'm not good at this, I'll never be.”

“Shut up. You're great, it's just that this one—”

“It's an embarrassment to every other artist alive?” 

Emma rolls her eyes. “Jules, they let you use the art classroom whenever you want, you really think Professor Fray would do that if you were bad?”

“I don't know.”

“Just maybe stick to drawing people,” Emma says. “Sunsets are—not your thing, at least not for now.”

She knows how sensitive Julian is in regards to his art, what he sees as his only way to hold onto his mom’s memory, so she picks her words carefully. Julian watches his failed attempt and shrugs in the end.

“I guess.”

Like most days, Emma helps him clean the art classroom and they walk together to the school’s exit. Emma waits with Julian until Andrew Blackthorn’s car shows up and then waves goodbye to him—and to the twins and to Drusilla, who always poke their heads out of the windows—before walking by herself to the school's football field.

And there, Emma waits for Cristina.

She thinks it's a little unfair that Cristina made it to the cheer team. 

Unfair because no one should look  _ that  _ good on the cheerleader’s uniform.

Knowing what she knows about herself Emma tries her best not to stare too much as Cristina saunters over, a ready smile on her lips and sweat glistening on her neck.

“Hey,” Cristina says breathlessly. Behind her the rest of the girls are already pushing the practice mats away from the fields. “You're early.”

Emma shrugs and keeps her eyes on Cristina’s. “Or are you late?”

“Practice ends at the same time everyday.”

“Maybe I just wanted to catch a glimpse of our school’s cheerleaders,” Emma says and makes a show of looking over Cristina’s shoulder and smiling at Isabelle Lightwood. Isabelle winks back.

Jealousy crosses briefly over Cristina’s eyes, but she composes herself quickly. Emma doesn't notice.

“You know our captain?” 

“Yeah,” Emma says. “She’s friends with Helen, and Julian—”

“Has a crush on her?” Cristina sighs. “I know. Who can blame him?”

Jealousy crosses briefly over Emma’s eyes, she doesn't compose herself in time. Cristina doesn't notice.

“Cristina, come help us get this to storage.”

Cristina nods at Isabelle and smiles at Emma. “I'll be right back.”

Emma still tries not to stare at her as she leaves. She doesn't succeed this time. 

Cristina comes back 20 minutes later with her hair down and her normal clothes, and Emma is sitting on the bleachers playing Fruit Ninja on her phone. 

“What's so fun about killing fruit?” Cristina asks, leaning over Emma’s shoulder and frowning at the screen.

Emma inhales sharply because they're so close Cristina’s hair tickles her neck.

“I just have it because Tavvy likes to play it sometimes,” Emma says and stands up a little faster than necessary and if Cristina notices she doesn't say anything. 

“Clearly Tavvy is not the only one.”

“Shut up. Let's just go.” 

They don't hold hands on the way home anymore, and Emma doesn't remember exactly when they stopped. All she knows is that she misses Cristina’s hand on hers as they walk. 

But best friends don't hold each other’s hands all the time. Especially not in high school.

“How was practice?” Emma asks just to break the silence and she wishes she hadn't said anything when Cristina smiles. 

“It was great. I loved it. Isabelle is so nice to all of us.”

“That's good, Tina, I'm glad you like it.”

Emma doesn't know why their conversations feel like this now. So superficial and empty and hollow, when they used to be able to talk for hours and hours and never run out of things to say. 

Maybe it's her fault. Maybe if she didn't have a crush on Cristina they would still be normal best friends, maybe they wouldn't have to deal with odd silences and forced conversations. 

If only Emma could get rid of the tiny, fluttering feeling on her chest, then everything would be the way it used to be.

 

 

* * *

 

“John,” Cordelia says in a hushed whisper as she dries her hands on the towel swung across her shoulder. “John, come look at this.”

John Carstairs pokes his head from his studio and frowns. Cordelia is nearly bouncing on the balls of her feet and she’s rummaging through the family shelves and he knows instinctively what she’s looking for: their old camera.

“What?” He says, for some reason imitating her low voice. 

Cristina and Emma are sharing a blanket on the couch and the TV had long ago turned off by itself. They have their arms wrapped around each other and Emma drools on Cristina’s shoulder and Cristina’s hair is on Emma’s mouth but they’re sleeping so soundly they probably don't even notice.

“Well you always wanted another daughter,” John says and watches with amusement as Cordelia snaps a picture of the two of them. 

“Cristina’s been like our daughter since the moment Emma met her,” Cordelia says with a grin. “Don’t deny it.”

He smiles back. “I’m not.”

“But—” She bites her lip and sighs, then takes her husband’s hand and pulls him to the kitchen, not wanting to risk waking any of the girls, especially considering what she’s about to mention. “I’m scared for them, John, for Emma.”

He crosses his arms and doesn’t say anything.

“Have you seen the way she looks at Cristina?”

John sighs. “Of course I have.”

“It’s silly, right? They’re just kids.” Even as she speaks she knows it’s not silly at all, and that it doesn’t matter at all. “You think she’ll ever tell her?”

“I don’t know sweetie,” John says. “But I sure hope so.”

 

* * *

 

Emma and Cameron are good friends. 

Despite their awkward eighth grade kiss and the fact that they never talked about it again, they're good friends. 

Cameron plays for the football team—or rather, he fetches towels and water bottles for the football team in hopes someday he'll be on the main roster—so he and Emma bump into each other quite a lot, as everyone who plays sports on the school do.

“I'm exhausted,” Emma breathes out as she sprawls herself on the empty bleachers. “Water boy, pass me a towel.”

Cameron grunts but still throws her a towel and it's, unsurprisingly, very clean. Emma can hear the football team snickering and pointing, but Cameron ignores them.

“You're Emma right?” One of them asks. Emma doesn't know who he is but he's very tall. “Emma Carstairs?” 

“How do you know my name?” 

The guy laughs and claps Cameron on the back. “Our water boy speaks of you a lot. Why are you always in the football field if you play volleyball, huh? Shouldn't you be at your gym?”

“We run on the field before and after practice,” Emma says, using the towel to clean her sweaty face. “Why do you care?” 

Cameron stifles a yelp and the other boy just laughs harder. 

“Just thought you'd have another reason for coming here.” 

With a wink, he walks away. 

“Who's that?” 

“That was Jordan Kyle,” Cameron says and his voice is clipped and he stares after Jordan like a desperate child in need of approval. “He’s the team captain. He's  _ so  _ cool.”

“He wears too much gel on his hair,” Emma notices, scrunching her nose. “Do you want to kiss him or what?” 

Cameron throws her another towel. This one smells like feet. “Shut up, Emma.”

Emma sits on the bleachers and stares at Cameron with newfound curiosity. “So you've talked to him about me?” 

Cameron blushes and his cheeks match the color of his hair. “Yeah. It's because you're awesome.”

Emma smiles and she thinks that she isn't bothered by the excitement that builds on her chest. “Thanks. I think you're awesome, too.”

The whistle of the cheerleader’s coach is Emma’s cue. “I'll see you later, Cam.”

“Yeah,” he says with a sheepish smile. “I'll see you later.”

 

* * *

 

Emma makes it to the junior varsity team but she finds she's no longer the star. 

There are other girls, as young as her, that can jump higher, or run faster, or hit the ball harder.

That's why Emma puts in as much effort as she can, and then some more. She trains twice as hard as she did in middle school, spends twice as much time on the backyard of her house, where her dad put up a volleyball net, just training, training, training.

“Emma, don't you think it's enough for today?” 

Emma takes a deep breath and bounces on the balls of her feet. “Just one more. Please?” 

Cristina sighs and throws the ball at Emma without complaining verbally, but there are complains on her eyes. 

Emma jumps and hits and nearly collides with the net, her palm all red and burning and her knees scraped and bruised all over. 

Her shot is perfect.

“One more?” 

Cristina shakes her head. Night had fallen hours ago, and Cristina looks as pretty in the moonlight as she looks everywhere else. “No. I'm tired, we should go to bed.”

A protest dies on Emma’s mouth as soon as she sees Cristina’s eyes soft with concern. She worries. She worries too much, she always has.

“Alright,” Emma says and the moment she takes a step forward is the moment her body groans in pain. She endures it and doesn't say anything. 

She takes a shower and sneaks chocolates into her room but is too tired to eat them. Cristina lies in bed beside her and tucks Emma in and Emma can barely keep her eyes open. 

And Cristina looks like she's from a dream.

“You made it to the team you know,” Cristina says, brushing damp hair out of Emma’s forehead. “You don't have to try so hard anymore.”

Emma wants to say that making it to the team is not the same as being the best, but she can't find the words for that.

“You always try so hard—” Cristina bites her lips and kisses Emma’s cheek and Emma just inhales and feels like she's on fire. “Emma?” 

“Yes?” Emma's voice feels strange on her own ears, not hers.

“Stop hurting yourself, please,” Cristina murmurs in the space between them. It feels like there is no space at all. “Promise?” 

Emma struggles to get the word out, and she won't feel the magnitude of it until way later. “Promise.”

Emma doesn't know what she's doing when she tangles a strand of Cristina’s hair around her finger. It's soft. Cristina doesn't know what she's doing when she leans forward to kiss Emma on the lips. They're soft.

It's just like their first kiss some months ago, where everything is silent and where Emma can feel her heart stutter for a beat. Once again the room feels too small, and Cristina feels too close, too warm. Too good.

Cristina curls up against Emma and falls asleep with her arms around her and neither of them mention the kiss again.

 

* * *

 

Mark and Helen come back home for summer break and Emma thinks she hasn't seen the Blackthorns this joyous in a long time.

Andrew Blackthorn in particular couldn't be happier, and the type of pure glee he radiates everywhere he goes is enough to make Emma feel confused.

It's been years since she's seen Julian’s dad smile like that. According to Julian, it's been years since he's seen it, too.

“Hey runt,” Mark says as he claps Emma on the back. 

“I'm taller now you know,” Emma says. “Don't call me runt.”

Mark laughs. “Still shorter than me. Still a runt. But I heard you're on the varsity team.”

“Junior varsity,” Emma grumbles with just a bit of annoyance.

“Give it time,” Mark says with a grin. He's so much different now, despite the fact it hasn't been  _ that  _ long, but Emma can't put her finger on it. “Are you taking care of Jules?” 

“Why would I take care of him?” 

Suddenly Mark grows more serious, and Emma can tell why he looks different. He's more like an adult now. 

“You know, Helen and I aren't here to watch over the little ones anymore. Julian’s the big brother now.” 

Emma thinks of Julian letting Tavvy use his studio and Julian making toys for Ty and watching movies with Livvy and helping Dru with her homework. 

“He's doing fine,” Emma says and it's the true. And Mark nods like he understands. 

“Our father is not,” he says, looking down, then he suddenly realizes who he's talking with and brightens up. “But anyways, wanna go roller skating? It's been a while huh?” 

“I don't know, Mark, are you ready to get your ass kicked again?” 

Mark’s grin is full with confidence and cockiness and it's just like the Mark Emma remembers.

She thinks about Andrew Blackthorn and the fact that he doesn't smile anymore for the rest of the day.

 

* * *

 

Emma is playing Monopoly with the twins in the living room when Aline Penhallow knocks on the door.

Helen rushes from her spot on the couch and lets out a delighted squeal that is very unlike her. 

“Emma, is your turn,” says Ty with all of his attention still focused on the game even though both Livvy and Emma are looking over their shoulders.

Livvy jumps at the sight of Aline and hugs her and they both laugh. Emma just watches, despite Ty’s insistence, because there's something very cute about the reunion. As far as Emma knows, Aline just arrived home for summer break, a week after Helen did.

“Emma?”

“Yeah.” Emma rolls the dice and moves her little boot figurine and wonders. 

She wonders if Cristina would ever welcome her home like Helen is welcoming her girlfriend.

 

* * *

 

Emma and Cristina stop having sleepovers anymore, not even the night before the first day of sophomore year.

 

* * *

 

Two months into sophomore year, Emma’s life crumbles into pieces.

 

* * *

 

She comes home from school to an empty house. There is an uneasiness that settles on her stomach but she doesn't know why. 

She calls Cristina and Cristina arrives five minutes later with a shrug and saying she doesn't need to do her chem homework anyways and Emma knows it's a lie but the sinking feeling in her chest doesn't let her say anything. 

Cristina hugs her tight and they don't know why they both feel like something is way too wrong.

They eat chocolate and cuddle on the couch and Emma’s parents don't come home and she doesn't know why she can't focus on the stupid movie they're watching.

Well, she does know, and this time it doesn't have anything to do with Cristina hugging her tight enough to leave her breathless. 

“You're my best friend,” Cristina mumbles in the crook of Emma’s neck in the dark of the living room as the credits roll. “I love you, Emma.”

Emma is too numb to answer and she doesn't know if it's the first time Cristina says that and she doesn't know why it doesn't feel the way it should feel. 

 

* * *

 

It's nine pm and Emma gets a visit from someone she hasn't seen in a long, long time.

 

* * *

 

Jem Carstairs claims to be Emma’s distant uncle. She's only met him a few time in brief encounters during holidays, but he may as well be a complete stranger. 

He bears the worst news Emma is ever going to hear in her life.

 

* * *

 

John and Cordelia Carstairs don’t even make it to the hospital.

 

* * *

 

The word  _ orphan  _ rings heavy on Emma’s ears and she doesn’t know how she went from the star of a small volleyball team to this.

She doesn’t know what  _ this  _ is.

 

* * *

 

Cristina watches the light go out from Emma’s eyes and she doesn’t know what she can do to make it come back.

Cristina feels Emma’s pain on the depths of her heart and she feels like every sob that ripples through Emma’s chest is a needle that punctures her skin.

Cristina cries with Emma and she doesn’t know how to fix her best friend’s heart.

 

* * *

 

Julian goes to visit Emma at the hospital and he spends the entire ride there biting his nails and Helen drives and her eyes are red and Julian feels like the world may just end when they arrive at their destination.

 

* * *

 

Jem Carstairs says he’s going to take care of everything.

Emma doesn’t believe him.

She doesn’t think anyone can take care of anything anymore.

 

* * *

 

Emma remembers Eleanor Blackthorn’s funeral, she remembers seeing all of the Blackthorns cry and remembers wondering if that was how heartbreak truly looked like. 

She never expected she would be the one to experience true heartbreak by herself.

 

* * *

 

“Jem—”

“I’m sorry,” Jem lets out in a breath and Tessa wraps her arms around his waist. “But we need to do this, Tessa.”

“I know. Don’t worry, we won’t leave her alone.”

 

* * *

 

Emma doesn’t cry at her parent’s funerals.

She’s too busy feeling absolutely nothing at all. Her mind feels numb, and her body feels like it’s not even there. She watches people come in and they hug her and they tell her how sorry they are but Emma doesn’t hear a single word.

She just hears the constant ringing, the constant word that repeats over and over inside her head like someone is pounding her against her skull.

_ Orphan. _

She doesn’t know what will happen to her. She's vaguely aware she’s going to live with Jem Carstairs and his wife now, she knows she will have to move out from her house, she knows she will have to change schools. She knows she will probably never see Cristina or Julian or Cameron ever again.

The thoughts mix with the other dark thoughts swirling around her head, her parents are dead. Dead. She will never see them again. She will never hear her dad’s violin again or smell her mom’s pies and she will never hug them every morning before school. She will never  _ see  _ them again.

Dead.

She’s never going to get a kiss on her forehead before bed again, and her mom is never going to scold her about eating too many chocolates ever again.

She skips out of the rest of the funeral and no one finds her for hours.

 

* * *

 

Cristina is crying by the time she stumbles into the forest behind an old park where no one really goes. 

Everything is so dark. The sky, the forest, her heart. Dark. 

She finds Emma not too long after, sitting on the ground with numb eyes and dirt under her fingernails.

Cristina feels all words escape her and a strange mixture of relief and sheer terror takes hold of her. She stares at Emma and thinks that she can see the broken pieces of her best friend’s heart. 

When she approaches she does it with all the carefulness in the word, afraid to shatter whatever shell Emma has locked herself in. Cristina holds her breath as she kneels next to Emma, unmindful of staining her clothes, and slowly reaches out to her. 

Emma is unmoving and doesn't even seem to notice when Cristina touches her arm. 

In the dark woods, with the moonlight dim between the canopy, Cristina notices for the first time the tears running down Emma’s cheeks.

Cristina wraps her arms around Emma and squeezes as hard as she can but it still feels like she's hugging something ragged and sharp and cold.

Emma remains unmoving. Numb. 

Cristina’s parents finally show up, though it's just been a few minutes, looking extremely worried.

“ _ Cristina donde— _ Emma?” 

Cristina almost forgets she didn't come here alone.

The voices make Emma stir like she's waking up and she trembles and shudders and Cristina holds her more tightly and Emma just cries against her chest. 

Emma cries and cries and she cries all the pain that is tearing her open from the inside, all the loss she doesn't know how to put into words, all the sadness she can't keep quiet anymore.

Cristina doesn't say anything but she knows that someone as bright and happy and headstrong as Emma should never feel like this. As she holds her best friend Cristina wonders what she can do to stop this and she's hit with one painful and final realization.

She can't do anything.

 

* * *

 

Emma stays in her bed all day and all night and Jem says that she can take her time but she still feels guilty because they're supposed to move out of the house soon but Emma can't be bothered to even move out of bed. 

She is too numb to care about that guilt. 

She's too numb to care about Jem or Tessa or the fact that her life is falling to pieces. She doesn't listen when either of them talk to her, she hopes that if she doesn't hear them then they won't be real and her parents will come home and she won't have to fall asleep with fresh tears swelling on her eyes. 

She doesn't know what she's going to do, and she doesn't care at all.

 

* * *

 

“Have you talked to Emma?” Julian asks, he's been chewing on his thumbnail for the past five minutes. Cristina has been counting.

“No,” she says in a low voice. “I've tried but she's locked in her room. I'm scared, she doesn't eat, she doesn't shower or go out, she's just—”

“It's just been a week,” Julian says. “What Emma needs is more time. I was the same when my mom died, I—I didn't want to face a world without her, so I just didn't face the world at all.”

“But Emma lost both her parents. I don't know, Julian, I'm really really scared.”

Julian looks like he wants to reassure her but instead he just looks down at the table and closes his eyes. “Me too.” 

The school is not the same without Emma, everything feels dull and boring and Cristina skips cheer practice because she knows Emma won't be there at the end of it and she doesn't even care when the new captain scolds her.

And seeing that Julian, who for days and days has been saying that Emma is strong enough to get through this, is beginning to doubt his words too is enough to make Cristina feel like she's falling deeper and deeper into a tunnel of desperation. 

She needs to help Emma. She  _ wants  _ to make her happy again, even if just a little bit, but she can't imagine a life where she loses her parents and remains the same person.

“I don’t know how to be there for her,” Cristina says and Julian looks at her like he understands and she knows he does, but at the same time she wants to tell him that he doesn’t understand a thing.

Cristina doesn’t know why she’s so angry. At Julian, for no reason at all, at Emma, for no reason at all, at Emma’s parents, for dying. At the world, for everything. 

All that she knows is that her blood boils every once in a while and she feels the urge to lash out to anyone who comes too close. Cristina feels like a ticking bomb counting down to an explosion devastating enough to sweep the entire town off its feet.

But she just ticks and ticks and ticks and she doesn’t know when she will finally explode.

“We’ll be there for her when she needs us,” Julian says. “Right now she just needs time.”

“How long is the ‘right now’ going to be?”

Julian sighs and Cristina hides her face in her hands and they don’t say anything else.

 

* * *

 

“Emma, Cristina is here,” Jem Carstairs says and Cristina awkwardly bounces on the balls of her feet and bites her lips and stares at the white door of Emma's room.

It's shut. It's been shut for a week.

Jem opens his mouth to call Emma again but Cristina shakes her head and shrugs. “Can I just stay here? In case she needs me?”

Jem stares at her in a soft way that makes her uncomfortable for no reason at all. It's like he understands but Cristina knows that no one can possibly understand. 

“Very well.”

Cristina watches him leave and waits until he’s downstairs to slowly knock on Emma’s door as carefully as if she were knocking on thin glass and not wood. “Em,” she says, “it’s me. You don’t have to let me in I just—I need to hear your voice, please.”

The door swings open in a burst, and she stumbles back and nearly trips when Emma collapses against her with all of her weight.

And despite it all, it's very silent. 

Cristina just holds Emma and bites her lip to stop herself from crying. She can't cry right now, not with Emma so vulnerable, but the joy and the sadness swirling on her chest are so strong. 

The sight of Emma is bittersweet. Cristina has been longing to see her again, she misses her best friend like the sky would miss the sun, but Emma is messy and her eyes are red and her lips are trembling and she can't hold herself upright without Cristina.

Cristina doesn't say anything because she thinks there aren't any words she can possibly say. She loves Emma so much it feels like a weight pressing against her chest, it's the kind of love that makes Cristina feel every bit of pain that Emma feels.

But it's the worst kind of love, because she doesn't know how to stop the hurting. 

And if she could, she would take away all of Emma’s hurting even if she had to suffer it herself.

“Cristina,” Emma slurs between sobs and Cristina’s heart breaks at the sound of her own name. “I don't want to be alone anymore.”

“I'm here,” Cristina says as she strokes Emma’s hair. “I'll always be here, Emma. Okay?”

Emma sniffles. “Okay.”

 

* * *

 

Emma feels just a small wisp of happiness when Jem tells her she's not going to change schools. 

She wonders if she'll ever feel anything more than small wisps of anything but despair anymore.

 

* * *

 

“We'll still be best friends,” Cristina reassures her and squeezes her hand and presses herself close to Emma on the sidewalk they're sitting on. 

From there Emma can see the rose garden on Cristina’s house, the red flowers stick out like drops of blood on the distance. 

Once again Emma wonders why the world has to be so cruel. 

“I'm going away,” Emma says. “Jem and Tessa don't live in town.”

“We'll see each other in school, don't worry. And you can still come to my house.”

“I guess.” 

Emma doesn’t know what else to say. As days pass she finds she has less and less to say.

Cristina wraps an arm around Emma’s neck and rubs her shoulder. On another day, perhaps Emma would feel nervous, perhaps she would blush and struggle to ignore the feelings surging from within her. Now she could only wish for those feelings to return, because even that is better than feeling nothing at all.

“I told you I’m always going to be here,” Cristina says. “And I mean it.”

Emma sighs because once she thought her parents were always going to be there, too, and now they’re not.

She doesn’t tell Cristina that.

 

* * *

 

Emma returns to school and Cristina does everything she can to make her feel like things are going to get better.

It’s not the same. They don’t arrive together anymore and Cristina can’t walk Emma to her math class on first period and then sprint back to her own class on the other side of the school.

Instead, Emma walks to math alone and Cristina doesn’t sprint anywhere because she’s always on time. 

It really isn’t the same.

They only see each other during lunch and in the few classes they share and Emma is quiet all the time, she doesn’t even laugh when Dane Larkspear trips and spills grape soda all over Zara Dearborn’s clothes. 

Julian tries to act like nothing's wrong and he talks to Emma happily even if she says little in return. He shows her his sketches like he used to do and isn’t bothered by Emma just shrugging or nodding or not even that. 

It’s all incredibly frustrating to Cristina, who just wants her best friend back.

If she’s being selfish she doesn’t care, she just misses the time when everything was simpler and when she could see Emma’s smile on a daily basis.

She sneaks out of cheer practice to check on Emma’s first day back on the volleyball team and instead of finding her training with the rest of the girls, she finds Emma with her back pressed against the wall of an empty restroom on the lockers room. Crying.

Cristina feels the shattering impact she always feels whenever she sees Emma cry. It makes everything else in the world seem small in comparison, and she thinks that there isn’t a single thing in the universe that feels as wrong as this.

She doesn’t know what to say when she kneels in front of Emma and hugs her. Emma hugs her back frantically, and the strength of her sobs grow and grow and grow until she’s shaking and breaking and Cristina can barely hold her in her arms anymore.

“I can’t do this.”

Cristina wants to tell Emma that she can do it, because she’s invincible, but she isn’t sure if her best friend needs to hear that.

“Let’s go, Emma,” she says instead. “Let’s go home.”

Emma leans back and stares at Cristina, all red eyes and swollen lips and wet face. “But—”

“No buts.”

“I’m sorry.”

Cristina smiles and she doesn’t know why, because all she feels is sadness. “No apologies, either. I’m going to take care of you, it’s that alright?”

“Yeah,” Emma cleans her tears and lets out a deep breath as if Cristina had said the most reassuring thing in the world. “Yeah, that’s alright.”

 

* * *

 

“I hate this stupid game,” Julian mumbles.

“Language,” Livvy says.

“Stupid is not a bad word.”

“Still, language, there are children present.”

Tavvy sits on the rug with a bunch of toy blocks and doesn’t even glance at the rest of his siblings as they sit close to him and play Monopoly. 

Ty is winning, of course, he has the most money and the most properties so far, but Dru, who is the most competitive of everyone in the room (yes, even more than Emma) is not too far behind.

Cristina sits with her legs crossed but she isn’t paying a lot of attention to the game, she’s more concerned with the fact that Emma is sitting next to her, leaning back on her forearms. She’s so at ease, it amazes Cristina a little, she’s forgotten how it was like to watch Emma when she’s not ridden with memories and ghosts.

It’s almost like old times.

“You just hate it because you’re in jail,” Dru says and happily snatches the dice and rolls.

“Yeah, and I think it’s dumb Livvy it’s the bank.”

Livvy sticks her tongue out at him. “It’s because I’m the best at math.”

“But you’re always stealing money from us.”

“I collect taxes, Jules,  _ taxes. _ ”

“You’re cheating.”

“Don’t be a sore loser, Jules,” Dru says.

“Says the biggest sore loser in the family.”

Dru also sticks her tongue out at him and Julian rolls his eyes.

“Monopoly is an arbitrary game,” Ty says. “It depends a lot on luck, not strategy, why would you get mad at that, Jules?”

Julian sputters for a second before he sighs. Out of everyone in the room, Ty is perhaps the only one that can make Julian admit he’s wrong.

“Fine,” Julian says. “I’m not mad.” He tries to go for the dice and Ty shakes his head.

“Actually, you still have to spend another turn on jail.”

Julian groans. “Stupid game.”

“Language.”

Emma chuckles under her breath and Cristina’s attention quickly snaps to her. Emma’s eyes are a little wide as if she hadn’t been expecting that and Cristina feels her jaw drop just a little. No one notices, and the game continues.

It’s the first time Cristina hears Emma’s laugh in a month.

Emma closes her eyes and lets out a breath and Cristina reaches for her hand. When their eyes lock, Cristina feels that strange feeling on her chest that she hasn’t felt in a while, the one she can’t put a name to just yet.

“Thanks for making me come here tonight,” Emma says in a whisper that no one else hears (because Dru just lost a bunch of properties and she’s in the middle of a very verbal rant and Livvy is having a fit of laughter) and the sincerity on her voice warms Cristina’s heart.

“You’re welcome.”

Emma reaches for Cristina and they hold hands for the rest of the night.

 

* * *

 

They have a sleepover for the first time in months.

It’s almost the last month of sophomore year and Cristina can’t help but smile the entire walk home. It’s the first time in months she and Emma walk from school together, but she can barely remember the times when they held hands all the way home.

“It’s going to be so much  _ fun, _ ” Cristina says. “I have such a big list of movies we should binge. And I told my mom to get extra popcorn and ice cream from the groceries store.”

Emma grins and it’s just a tad dimmer than what it used to be but it makes Cristina’s heart soar. “Extra popcorn and extra ice cream have always been the key to my heart.”

“Duh, I know. I’m glad we’re doing this.”

“Yeah, me too. All we’ve done lately is homework and practice and homework and practice. I’ve missed us.”

Cristina stops in the middle of the sidewalk and bites her lip and just pulls Emma into a hug. “I’ve missed us too,” she whispers into Emma’s hair and Emma chuckles and clings tightly to her and for a moment they’re kids again and they’re  _ Emma and Cristina  _ and everyone knows it.

Cristina wishes the moment could last longer.

 

* * *

 

Julian holds open the backseat door for Dru and catches a glimpse of two figures standing in the middle of the sidewalk in front of Cristina’s house.

He hears Dru snort as she climbs out of the car. “Are those Emma and Cristina?”

“Yeah,” Julian says, chuckling. “What do you think? Should we go stop them before Cristina strangles Emma?”

“Nah,” Dru says. “But we should go before Emma strangles Cristina.”

Julian shakes his head and pulls his backpack from the car and begins walking towards the front door. His dad doesn’t say anything as the twins get out, he doesn’t even wave as he drives off. Julian knows he won’t be coming home tonight.

The dark mood that’s about to wash over him disappears when he hears the brightest sound from down the street. 

Emma has her head thrown back and she’s _laughing_.

“Ah! We should go say hi!” Livvy chimes in but Julian stops her by grabbing her from the back of her shirt.

“Not so fast, runt, you have a  lot  of homework to do.”

Livvy sulks and sticks her tongue out at him. “I can do that later.”

Julian glances at Emma and Cristina again and how they stare at each other like they’re seeing colors for the first time in a lifetime. He shakes his head at his sister. “Let them be, Livvy, it’s been a while.”

“A while since what?” Livvy asks. “Jules? A while since  _ what? _ ”

Julian doesn’t say anything as he goes inside, but he does feel the world is a little brighter.

 

* * *

 

Cristina watches Emma sleep and smiles to herself. She thinks this is how the world is supposed to be.

 

* * *

 

“My parents are totally cool with it,” Cameron says and shrugs. “ _ Everyone  _ is going, Emma, you need to be there too.”

Emma sighs as she closes her locker and leans against it. She’s tired from volleyball practice, and all she wants to do is go home and sleep until the next day. “I don’t know, Cam, I’m not in the mood for parties lately.”

_ Because my parents are dead. _

Cameron nods slowly, his eyes growing sympathetic. Emma can practically hear the pity his thoughts are dripping. She hates it. Lately it seems only Cristina and Julian are good at talking to her without making her angry.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun. You need to loosen up, school year is almost over, we’ll be juniors soon.” Cameron talks with a lot of seriousness and Emma can barely remember a time where being a junior sounded like the most amazing thing in the world.

She hates that, too, because she feels her time to be a silly teenager is over. You can’t be just a silly teenager, worried about the stupidest things, when you have gone through as much grief as Emma.

“I’ll think about it,” Emma says, smiling tightly, and she knows Cameron is not going to believe her, but she doesn’t care.

She can’t get away from him because Cameron grabs her wrist. It’s a soft grip, clearly meant to be broken if Emma wanted to, but for some reason she freezes and doesn’t move and Cameron smiles shyly. 

“I want to help you, Em,” he says.

Emma knows she should feel grateful, and she does, she knows Cameron is being honest but—but she’s not very good at feeling grateful. “I know, Cam, thanks,” is all she can say before smiling again. “I  _ will  _ think about it, I promise.”

He still doesn’t look convinced but he smiles back and Emma takes that as her cue to get away from him as fast as possible. 

 

* * *

 

“Do you guys think I’m an asshole?” Emma asks.

Julian and Cristina share a look they think she can’t see but she sees it too well. They’re both debating whether this is a joke or a genuine question fueled by Emma’s strange mood swings. She can’t blame them for wondering.

“Uhh—why are you asking?” Julian asks. Smart Julian, always ready to deflect questions.

Emma, sprawled on one of the tables in the art classroom, rolls to her side and stares at him steadily. “Cameron Ashdown is in love with me,” she says.

Cristina and Julian share another look. Emma wonders when did they get so good at communicating with just their eyes. She remembers then that Cristina and Julian are still neighbors and probably hang out after school everyday, whereas Emma— 

She doesn’t want to think about that, so she doesn’t.

“Cameron Ashdown has been in love with you since first grade, Emma,” Cristina says. “Why would that make  _ you  _ an asshole?”

“Because he’s nice. And he’s great and funny and kind, but—I don’t know.”

“Some people are just not meant to be together,” Julian says. “It doesn’t mean anything, Emma, you don’t  _ have  _ to like him back.”

“Yeah,” Cristina says. “Some people are just meant to be friends.” Her voice falters on the word friends but Emma doesn’t notice. Julian does, but he doesn’t say anything.

Emma stares at Cristina, sitting primly on the wooden floor, and wonders why her feelings haven’t gone away yet. It’s been years, and she still feels her heart flutter whenever she looks at Cristina, she still feels her chest fill with the longing of what could never be.

“I know,” she says, then sighs. She doesn’t want to keep talking about this, so she doesn’t, because she’s sure she’s not going to be able to finish this conversation without mentioning the fact that Cameron is not the only one with a story of unrequited love. “Are we going to his party?”

“I don’t know,” Julian is the first to speak, finally setting down his brush and admiring the canvas in front of him. Emma can’t see what it is he painted, and the canvas obscures half of his face from her view. “It depends. I may have to babysit everyone that night, I don’t know if my dad is gonna be home.”

“If you guys aren’t going, then neither am I,” Cristina says simply.

Once again, Emma’s mind is filled with the knowledge that she is growing up too fast. She realizes it’s not only her.

“We should go,” she says. “It’ll be fun.”

Once again, Cristina and Julian look at each other, puzzlement written all over their faces. Emma shares the sentiment, too, she surprised herself as well.

“Yeah,” Cristina says. “We should go. My mom can watch your siblings if your dad isn’t home, Jules.”

“Really?” Julian perks up, his eyes bright, and Emma bites her lip. When was the last time Julian got to have fun on his own, without worrying about his brothers and sisters?

Emma remembers Mark telling her to take care of Julian. It seems like it was a lifetime ago, and back then she dismissed as Mark being overly concerned. Now she can see the weight behind his words.

_ “You know, Helen and I aren't here to watch over the little ones anymore. Julian’s the big brother now.”  _

She’s never missed living next to the Blackthorns as much as she does now.

“Really,” Cristina says, smiling. “She’s gonna be glad, she’s always saying how we don’t go out anymore like we used to.”

“Things are different now,” Emma says, rolling to her back once again. She finds it is easier to stare at the ceiling than stare at her best friends. One she’s in love with, the other is so different she barely recognizes him.

“Some things,” Cristina says. “But not  _ everything. _ ” 

“Sometimes ‘some things’ are enough.” 

Before Emma knows it Cristina is standing by the edge of the table and she’s leaning over Emma and her long hair tickles Emma’s face. “You’re being overly dramatic again.”

Emma jolts into a sitting position and almost collides with Cristina. She has to pretend that Cristina scared her because it’s better than letting her know how nervous Emma gets whenever they’re that close.

“Guys,” Julian calls before Emma can embarrass herself further. “We need to get going now, we’re not supposed to stay this long.”

“Sure,” Emma says, jumping from the table. “You guys can go ahead, my bus won’t show up for another ten minutes.”

“I’d wait with you,” Julian says, “but my dad will be here—”

“That’s fine, Jules,” Emma says. “I get it.”

Cristina smiles and bumps Emma’s shoulder. “I can wait with you.”

“Thanks Tina.” Emma smiles back and she thinks that it’s one of the few genuine smiles she has left.

 

* * *

 

“Will you stop moving?” Cristina huffs, steadily holding the eyeliner even as Emma tries to squirm away from it. “This was your idea.”

“Yes but I didn’t think that—”

Cristina arches an eyebrow. “That what?”

Emma just purses her lips and swallows. Then she nods for Cristina to continue, her eyes always either looking down or closed.

At first, Cristina suspects it’s just because Emma is nervous. This is the first time they go out to a party ever since Emma’s parents— 

But after giving it some thought, Cristina thinks that there may be something else as to why Emma is acting so weird. What that  _ something else  _ may be, however, she isn’t sure. All she knows is that Emma’s breathing is erratic and her heart is beating so loud even she can hear it.

“Are you thinking about Cameron?” Cristina asks as she finishes the eyeliner. 

Emma starts. “What? Why would I be thinking about him?”

“Well why not?”

Emma licks her lips and for a second Cristina thinks she can see something strange in her eyes, but the expression is gone as soon as it appears. “Believe me, he’s the furthest thing from my mind right now. I just want to have fun with you and Jules.”

“You’re acting weird, Emma Carstairs,” Cristina says. “Are you keeping secrets from your best friend?”

Once again Emma tenses. “No. I would never do that. Best friends tell each other everything, right?”

Cristina has to make an effort to keep her hand steady as she reaches for lipstick and leans forward to put it on Emma. “Right.”

Emma breathes out. “I can do my own lipstick.”

“Hush.” 

Cristina holds Emma’s chin with a hand and Emma feels the touch burning through her skin and she realizes that they’re awfully close. The last time they were  _ this  _ close was when Cristina kissed her all those months ago. Emma tries to divert her thoughts, because going to that particular memory is dangerous in this situation.

“Ready,” Cristina says, and for some reason she’s out of breath. “You look beautiful.”

Now Emma is out of breath and they’re still very close to each other. She could lean in and kiss Cristina so easily, and for a second the thought is so overwhelming she barely knows what she’s doing anymore.

Cristina stays where she is even when she knows she should move because she’s done and she has no reason to stay this close to Emma. They’re both sitting on Cristina’s bed and some cheesy pop station sounds on Emma’s phone and Emma looks so stunning Cristina finds it hard to look away from her.

Best friends should not stare at each other’s lips like that.

A knock on the door interrupts whatever was about to happen.

“Girls, Julian is here!”

Cristina jolts away from Emma, flustered to no end. “We’re coming, mom!”

Before she can look at Emma, to see if any of them can come up with an explanation to whatever happened, Emma is already on her feet and giving herself one last glance in the mirror, mostly so she doesn’t have to deal with Cristina’s eyes on her anymore.

They go downstairs and don’t say anything even as Cristina’s dad drives them there.

 

* * *

 

“You guys made it!” Cameron greets the three of them with a hug and Cristina notices how he lingers on Emma more than necessary. She can’t blame him, the joy of having Emma here and looking so content is so strong Cristina hasn’t stopped smiling since leaving her house.

“Yeah, wouldn’t miss it,” Emma says with a grin and her eyes sparkle for a second.

And in that second, Cristina gets torn between her joy and the jealousy that flickers inside of her because of how Emma smiles at Cameron. 

Julian puts a hand on her arm and smiles politely, though he is looking at Cameron and not at Cristina. “Let’s go inside, or are we going to stay here all night?”

“Yeah, sure!” Cameron says happily.

“What was that about?” Julian whispers to Cristina once they enter the house. The music is loud and the laughter is louder and Cristina’s nostrils are immediately invaded with the smell of booze. Cameron’s living room looks so different now that it’s filled with teenagers and not middle schoolers, and Cristina is sure that cloud of smoke hanging over the room isn’t from regular cigarettes.

“What was  _ what  _ about?” She asks, struggling to be heard over the loud music.

“You looked like you wanted to murder Cameron for a second,” Julian says.

Cristina clenches her jaw as she sees Emma greet the rest of Cameron’s friends from the football team. “Maybe I did.”

She’s positive Julian didn’t hear her. The music is too loud, and he’s in the middle of being greeted by a bunch of kids that haven’t seen him out of the school in ages.

Cristina hangs with the cheerleading team but can’t stop staring at Emma from across the room.

 

* * *

 

“Are you having fun?” Cristina asks, swinging her legs back and forth on the pool table where she's sitting. Normally she would frown upon sitting on Cameron Ashdown’s pool table, but she's had a bit too much of that wine everyone is passing around. 

Apparently, Cameron had stolen the bottles from Zara Dearborn’s dad, but everyone knew his older sister Vanessa had bought them for him. Cameron had crafted a funny story to entertain everyone, and at this point there were kids drunk enough to believe it.

Cristina wonders how long until she starts to believe it too.

Emma grins lazily and her hair is lose and down and her eyes are hazy and she's beautiful when she leans over and places her hands on Cristina’s knees.

“Yeah,” Emma says. She rests her forehead against Cristina’s collarbone and she smells of alcohol and sweat and the sharp perfume she put on before coming here. “Are you?” 

Cristina absent-mindedly tangles her fingers on Emma’s hair and softly starts working out the tangles. Emma sighs and relaxes.

“Yeah,” Cristina says.

The basement is technically off limits, or so Cameron said, but Emma and Cristina had snuck in to search for more wine. No luck so far, but they haven't been looking, either.

The music can still be heard, it's muffled and resonates in the walls, but it isn't loud enough Cristina can't hear Emma’s low humming.

She isn't sure why she feels so comfortable here, in a strange basement and a little tipsy and with Emma a lot more tipsy leaning against her like that. Cristina thinks that it must be Emma, after all, because she's the only person in the world that can make Cristina feel comfortable even in the worst of places.

“Tina,” Emma mumbles and her breath is hot against Cristina’s skin. “Should we go back upstairs?”

Unconsciously Cristina tightens her grip on Emma and Emma nods in agreement.

“You're my best friend, Emma,” Cristina blurts out in a whisper and she knows she's trying to convince herself. Being with Emma feels  _ too  _ nice, too good to be true, she needs to remind herself they're best friends. And best friends is all they're ever going to be.

“What if I don't want to be?” 

Cristina freezes and her hands on Emma's hair stop moving and she's sure she stops breathing as well. The words hit her like cold water and she sinks into them and sinks and sinks and sinks and she can't believe how quickly hurt can come to her.

“What?” Is all she can manage to say. 

Emma pulls back and her eyes are impossibly dark and she's beautiful and Cristina is tired of thinking that all the time.

“Whaf if I want—” Emma swallows, and when her eyes flicker to Cristina’s lips it feels like all the air in the room vanishes, “something else?”

“Like what?” Cristina asks and she forgets about the implication of Emma not wanting to be her best friend anymore because there is something heavier hanging between them now.

“Like—” Emma’s hands are still on Cristina’s knees and they're still close and they get closer when Emma leans in and Cristina can smell the wine on her mouth and—

“Yeah it's down here!” A voice calls from the basement door and is followed by laughter and chatter. 

Cristina and Emma jump away as if the other was burning and judging by how red their cheeks are one could say that they are. They don't look at each other and instead look at Cameron coming down the stairs followed by a bunch of other classmates. 

“Oh! I didn't know you guys were down here,” Cameron says, grinning and waving for everyone to follow him. “Well you're welcome to stay, things are getting crowded up there.”

Rayan Maduabuchi comes behind Cameron and swings an arm around his neck. “Yeah almost everyone is drunk already. And Cameron had the best idea!”

“What idea?” Emma asks and she's afraid of the answer.

“Spin the bottle!” 

 

* * *

 

“It's gonna be weird if we kiss,” Emma says to Julian, who is sitting next to her in the huge circle of boys and girls. It had taken them ten minutes to move all of the couches in the basement so they could sit on the floor.

“Yeah, like kissing my sister,” Julian says, grimacing. "Though you wouldn't mind kissing _one_ of my sisters, right?”

Emma rolls her eyes. “I regret ever telling you about that.”

“I'm sure Helen is flattered.”

“Wait, you told her?” 

“Of course not, Em,” Julian deadpans. 

“You little—”

She stops as Cameron—by right of being the host—spins the bottle first. It lands on some girl from Emma’s Spanish Class and it has the entire room cheering. They kiss and by the end of it Cameron’s eyes are just a little sparkly and Emma is glad because maybe he's moving on. 

“There's too many people,” Julian says after the third or so spin. “As Ty would say: the possibilities of being picked are slim.”

“You haven't had any wine, right?” 

“No,” he admits. “I don't want to risk smelling of it when I get home.”

Emma smiles. Only Julian would say such a thing.

She watches Cristina from across the circle and notices Cristina is watching her, too. Emma smiles at her though she can feel herself faltering in the gesture. It's meant to be reassuring, but Emma can barely reassure herself.

After everyone else came downstairs Cristina and Emma had naturally gravitated away from each other, and Emma knows it's because of what happened earlier—she can't stop wondering what would've happened.

After Zara has to kiss Dane is his turn to spin, and the bottle lands on his twin sister. Everyone is grossed out and Samantha Larkspear kicks the bottle away with the sound of “ _ ewwww”  _

Everyone is too busy laughing to spin again. And eventually, everyone falls into conversation, the game forgotten.

“I guess that's it,” Julian says. “See? Too many people.”

Emma frowns and tries to catch Cristina’s eyes again but she's talking with the girl next to her.

Emma reaches towards the middle of the circle and spins the bottle without a care in the world.

It lands on Cristina.

The immediate chorus of “ _ Uhhhh”  _ that rises in the room makes Emma raise an eyebrow. There's always a playful banter whenever someone spins, but this time there is a sort of quiet excitement, expectation, that wasn't there before. 

“Emma—” Julian begins in a low voice and he's pale as a ghost and Emma figures that's how it's supposed to be. You shouldn't want to kiss your best friend. 

“Well go on, we don't have all night,” says someone but Emma’s heart is beating too loud for her to know who. 

She feels like she's in a room filled with people that know too much. People that know more than she does.

Cristina smiles at her and Emma knows it's supposed to be reassuring but she sees the gesture falter.

Emma crosses the circle and kneels in front of Cristina and carefully places her hands on her shoulders. “Sorry,” she mumbles. 

Cristina smiles and Emma is left dazzled. “It's okay.”

Emma kisses Cristina’s smile and she's sure it's going to be a short kiss to get it over with, and she's regretting not listening to Julian and letting the game end.

But she doesn't know what happens, she doesn't know why her head is fuzzy and why her fingers tremble there where she touches Cristina and she doesn't know why Cristina is kissing her back like she also knows something Emma doesn't. 

Shouldn't best friends tell each other everything?

Emma pulls away as Cristina sighs into her mouth, unable to take it any longer. She doesn't look at Cristina as she goes back to her place besides Julian, and she doesn't look at Julian, either, because she doesn't want to see the concerned look on his face that's surely there.

Why does he worry so much, anyways? It's not like Emma is jumping from a tree. Kissing your best friend shouldn't be dangerous.

It's Cristina’s turn to spin and Emma is filled with a quick burst of jealousy at the realization that she's gonna have to watch Cristina kiss someone else. It makes her stomach churn and she's sure she's going to vomit.

But then all of that vanishes when the bottle lands back on her.

The laughter returns. The weird kind. Rayan laughs so hard Cameron has to bump him in the shoulder so he shuts up.

“What?” Emma asks, frowning, but she can't keep the anger from her voice. “What's so funny?” 

“Two times in a row, Emma,” Rayan says, grinning. “So you have to do seven minutes in heaven!”

“What?” Cristina squeals. “That's a rule?” 

There's a chorus of _yeah_  that goes around the circle. Julian is the only one that stays quiet.

Emma rolls her eyes and offers a hand to help Cristina stand up. She tries to pretend the touch doesn't make her even more lightheaded. “Whatever. We'll follow your stupid rule.”

“Have fun!” Rayan calls.

“Use the storage room,” Cameron says, pointing to the small wooden door on the back of the room. “We'll be counting.”

The grin on his face makes Emma feel both infuriated and really glad. Maybe he  _ really  _ is moving on.

She ignores Cameron and tries to pretend she isn't still holding Cristina’s hand.

“We don't have to do anything,” Emma breathes out once she closes the door. It's a small room, square and dark, and Emma can make the shapes of just a few boxes in the back. It's exceedingly hot, and it doesn't help that she's in there with Cristina.

Cristina, who is biting her lip and who has her cheeks flushed thanks to the alcohol and who is looking at Emma with a strange look of hunger that—

Perhaps best friends don't  _ always  _ tell each other everything.

“Why not?” Cristina moves closer to Emma and Emma steps back and hits the wall and takes a deep breath.

“I'm very drunk right now, Tina,” she breathes out and pretends she's not lying but she needs to give that warning anyways.

“Me too,” Cristina sighs back and pretends she's not lying either. “And it's just a game.” 

Another lie.

“Right,” Emma says. “It doesn't mean anything.”

And another lie.

“Right.”

Emma takes Cristina’s face in her hands and leans forward and casts another glance at her eyes just to make sure but Cristina has her eyes closed and she's leaning forward too and suddenly they're kissing. 

And it's not like the others.

It's not quiet and shy and stuttery. It's not made in the darkness of Emma’s bedroom after a long day but rather in the darkness of this small storage room after sipping too much wine. It's a hard kiss, driving and intoxicating and breathless.

And Cristina’s lips are sweeter than the wine and Emma shudders all over because she feels like she's on fire and Cristina is the only breath of fresh air.

She turns them around and pins Cristina against the wall and nearly comes undone at the soft whimper that leaves Cristina’s throat.

And it's dangerous and it's bad and it's dumb and Emma knows it's a bad decision but God she can't help herself. 

Best friends shouldn't kiss each other like this.

Cristina bites down on Emma’s bottom lip and she thinks that maybe they're not regular best friends anymore, because there is no way someone could feel what Emma is feeling for Cristina and call it just a friendship.

“Tina—” Emma gasps, pulling away, and then pulling away further when Cristina unconsciously chases her lips for another kiss. “We should stop.”

Cristina looks at her with lidded, hazed eyes and her hands are on the back of Emma’s neck and only now Emma notices she's gripping Cristina by the waist and that their bodies couldn't be closer if they tried.

She thinks of all the times through her childhood when she's hugged Cristina. On sidewalks and on empty bathrooms and in school gyms and skate rings. They were kids back then but Emma doesn't feel like a kid now, and all innocence that could be hidden in those hugs is gone and replaced with a foreign desire for things that should not be.

“Why?” Cristina asks slowly and they don't move. “I thought it was just a game. It doesn't mean anything.”

She echoes their words from before but Emma can't help but think that it means  _ everything  _ and that if it's a game then it is not funny.

“Unless there's something you want to tell me?” Cristina says. 

Emma panics and kisses her again because she thinks the sweet torture of kissing Cristina in the dark like this is better than answering that question.

She knows by now best friends don't tell each other everything, not even close. 

 

* * *

 

“It's been nearly fifteen minutes!” Rayan says. “What are they even doing in there?” 

“You think they fell asleep?” Cameron asks.

“We should go see.”

“Are you an idiot? What if they  _ didn't  _ fall asleep?” 

“Leave them alone,” Julian says, putting on his best older-brother voice. It doesn't matter if he's talking to Dru or Cameron, it always seems to work. “It's none of your business.”

“It's my house!” 

“And the rules of the game clearly say seven minutes and—”

Julian stares at them without moving. It doesn't matter if he's staring at Livvy or Rayan, it always seems to work. 

“Fine, whatever,” Cameron sighs. “Let's get back upstairs though, party’s clearly dying out.”

Julian agrees and doesn't even glance at the storage room’s door as he walks away but he wonders if this is the moment when Emma and Cristina finally realize. 

Julian is tired of watching them pretend to be just friends.

 

* * *

 

Emma and Cristina don't talk about it again. 

They don't talk for the rest of the dying party.

They don't talk as Cristina’s dad drives them home. 

They don't talk as they both collapse on Cristina’s bed, with the same clothes, minds fuzzy and hearts loud, craving each other's touch but not touching at all.

They don't mention the night again.

 

* * *

 

With junior year Emma is promoted to captain of the varsity volleyball team. 

She walks on clouds and smiles at everyone and is so proud of herself she is beaming sunlight. She only wishes her parents were there to see her.

But they're not, and Emma’s victories have been bittersweet ever since.

“What's this?” Emma asks one day as she gets home and sees that Jem and Tessa are waiting for her with excitement in their eyes and stifled smiles.

She rarely sees them in the house at this time of day, they're usually only here in the mornings and then in the evening.

“We heard the news,” Tessa says. “Congratulations.”

Emma smiles. “Thank you.”

“We have something for you,” says Jem. “A present, if you will.”

“Ah, you didn't have to.”

Things are polite. They're always polite with them, at first it drove Emma insane, but now she thinks is normal.

Jem smiles and leads Emma to the backdoor and into the garage. Jem and Tessa’s house is small and cozy, very homely and with two spare rooms. However, everytime Emma brings up why they haven't had any children they get weird, and Tessa gets specially sad, so Emma tries not to comment on that.

“Surprise,” Jem says in his polite voice and puts a hand on Emma’s shoulder and Emma’s jaw drops.

“You bought me a  _ car _ ?” Emma asks. “Really?” 

She hears Tessa’s gentle laugh and waits for her to say that it's a joke. “Really,” she says instead and Emma’s skin buzzes in a pleasant way.

“But why?” 

“Because you deserve it,” Jem says. “And we know how much you hate the bus.”

“I—thank you.” Emma smiles. “Thank you so much. Am I allowed to drive it yet?”

“Sure,” says Tessa “It's yours. Do you have a destination in mind?” 

Emma smirks and she can't contain the buzz any longer, the excitement pours out of her and she laughs before hugging Jem and Tessa and thanking them again.

“I do have somewhere in mind,” she says, happily taking the keys from Jem and hopping into the driver seat.  _ Her  _ driver seat. 

“Oh no,” Tessa whispers softly as Emma speeds away. She stands with Jem in the empty garage and the happiness in Emma’s eyes is still hanging in the air. “What have we done?”

Jem chuckles and kisses her cheek. “She's happy, that's what matters.”

“I've never seen her like that.”

“I know,” Jem says. “Let us hope we will see her like that more often.”

 

* * *

 

Emma learned to drive with quick lessons from Helen whenever she came back for college breaks. Helen was adamant in teaching both her and Julian, and even though Emma hasn't had much practice she figures it can't be that complicated. 

She makes it to Cristina’s house without hitting anything or anyone, so she can't be that bad.

Emma picks up her phone and smashes the call button on Cristina’s name. “Hey,” she says. 

“Emma? What's up? Need help again with your Spanish homework?” 

“I need you to go to your front door.” 

Suspicion arises on Cristina’s tone. “What? Why?” 

“Just do it. Don't asks questions. It's a life or death situation, red code or whatever.”

Cristina sighs and Emma can practically see her rolling her eyes. “Fine. If it's a stupid thing I will punch you.”

“Pff, I'd like to see you try.”

“Don't challenge me, you think I don't know how to throw a punch?”

“You're a cheerleader,” Emma says, kicking up her feet to the dashboard. “Why should I be afraid of you? All you do is jump around and look pretty.”

Cristina snorts. “Thanks for the compliment, but you have no idea how hard it is to— _ Ay Dios mío!” _

Emma nearly jumps out of her skin, and she hits her head with the car ceiling and she squeals because Cristina’s excited scream is loud enough she doesn't need her phone to hear it. 

“I know!” Emma shouts back, scrambling out of the car. Cristina is frozen on her front yard, mouth hanging open. Emma throws her arms over her head and laughs. “I have a car!”

“No way!” 

“Yes way!” 

“Emma!” Cristina whistles and laughs and she taps Emma on the shoulder. “This is  _ amazing! _ How did it happen?” 

“Jem,” Emma says. “I don't know. I get home and he says he got me something for being made captain and—it’s this!”

“That's so great!” Cristina suddenly wraps her arms around Emma in a rushed hug that doesn't last more than two seconds (since Cameron's party, all of their touches last only two seconds) and leaves Emma flushed and with her heart pounding. “Call Julian! Ohhh we should go out tonight! It's Friday!”

“Go out where?” Emma asks as she slowly texts Julian to come outside. Cristina’s excitement makes her look very cute, and Emma cannot look away from her.

“Anywhere.” Cristina shrugs. “We can go anywhere we like.”

_ And I'd go anywhere with you. _

“How about McDonald's? Are you hungry?”

Cristina laughs, all shiny eyes and joyous excitement. “I was hoping for something more exciting, but yeah, McDonald's will do.”

“What exactly can we do at 5 in the afternoon? What's even your definition of exciting?” 

“Well I thought—”

“Oh my God!”

Emma spins just in time to see Julian sprinting from his front yard towards them with a look of utter shock on his face and way too much yellow paint on his t-shirt.

“Same reaction,” Emma muses, “different languages.”

“Emma! This is yours?” 

Emma grins. “Yeah.”

“Holy shit!” 

Emma and Cristina both need a second to take that in. 

“Did you just swear?” 

Julian smiles and scratches the back of his neck. “Sorry, I couldn't help it.”

“It's been years since I've heard you swear.” Emma laughs and pats Julian on the back. “Good to see you still can!” 

“Yeah, yeah, you know why I don't do it. Anyways. Where are we going?” 

“Emma had the most incredible place we can go, it's absolutely an amazing way to try out her new car!” 

“But you love McDonald's,” Emma says. “And I can deal without the sarcasm.”

“McDonald's is fine,” Julian says. “I call shotgun though.”

Cristina nearly shoves him out of the way. “In your dreams!”

Emma laughs and climbs into the driver's seat and for a few hours she gets to just have fun with her best friends and forget about the fact she can still vividly remember Cristina’s lips against her.

 

* * *

 

“Are you nervous?” 

“Nah.”

“Emma.”

“Maybe a bit.”

Cristina smiles. “You're gonna do great. I'll be cheering for you.”

“That's kinda the job of a cheerleader, isn't it?”

“I'll be cheering  _ only  _ for you.”

Emma smiles, too, and gets red when Cristina kisses her cheek. “Thank you. To tell you the truth I'm terrified.”

Girls go about their business in the locker room, some changing and some already doing warm-ups and Emma sees a lot of blue skirts and high ponytails and sparkly pom poms. Emma really shouldn't be hanging out in the cheerleader’s locker rooms, but at this point they all accept her presence as normal.

“I get it,” Cristina says, patting Emma’s back. “First final as captain, I'd be scared too. But Emma, you're—well, you're  _ Emma Carstairs.  _ You're gonna do amazing.”

“I don't feel very amazing today,” Emma says.

“Come with me.” Cristina takes Emma’s hands and takes her away from the lockers and they go outside towards the empty halls and Emma doesn't say anything as Cristina takes her up a bunch of stairs.

“Tina we kinda have to be in the gym in 15 minutes.”

“Hush. We'll be there in time, and this is important.”

Emma sighs and pretends to be annoyed when in reality she can barely think with Cristina’s hand on hers. 

“The rooftop,” Emma says once Cristina shoulders the door open. “We're not supposed to be here.”

“So? Are you really concerned about rules?  _ You?”  _

Emma shrugs. “This is weird coming from you, you love rules.”

“I'm not that boring.”

“Why did you even bring me here?” 

“Because,” Cristina signals to the sky as if that was the only answer Emma needs. It's clear, and the sun is shining. “It's relaxing, isn't it?” 

“It's hot,” Emma says. “Too much sun.”

Cristina just rolls her eyes and takes Emma’s hand again. Emma wonders if this is the first time they hold hands in a year. 

It is. 

“Just breathe, Emma, you'll see.”

Emma closes her eyes and takes a deep breath and tries to focus on something other than Cristina holding her hand and the pressure that she can't stay in this little rooftop forever because she has other things to do. 

The winds blows in her hair and the sun feels nice against her skin and Emma can almost pretend she and Cristina are alone in the world, this high up, isolated from everyone else.

“We're gonna lose,” Emma says in a breath and closes her eyes harder. “I can't do it.”

“Emma—”

“I can't do it because my dad is not here to wish me good luck. I can't do it because my mom is not here to smile at me from the crowd. I miss them, Tina and I—”

Emma only realizes she's crying when Cristina hugs her and strokes her back and hums that it's gonna be okay. 

Emma gets waves of sadness like this from time to time, and most of the times she's by herself. Jem helps, or Tessa, but only rarely. This is the first time she's with Cristina and she doesn't know what to do because Cristina smells of flowers and strawberry splash and she feels solid and steady and Emma can't stop crying.

“I'm here with you,” she says. “If you want to leave—”

“I can't leave,” Emma sniffles. “I'll get kicked out of the team. I can't—” 

“There are worse things in the world.”

Emma shakes her head and pushes away from Cristina, wiping her own tears. “I can't let that happen, Tina, I can't.”

Cristina’s eyes are soft. Filled with understanding and love and Emma just wants to cry more but for some reason she finds all the peace she needs in Cristina’s eyes, the color of tea and honey.

Before Emma knows it Cristina is kissing her and the world is spinning frantically.

Emma gasps out of surprise but she's not strong enough to move away. Instead she wraps her arms around Cristina’s shoulders and pulls her close and gets lost in the overwhelming feeling of belonging with someone.

Best friends or not she doesn't think she's ever belonged with anyone the way she belongs with Cristina. 

“You'll do great,” Cristina whispers against Emma’s lips and her fingers are running over the edge of Emma’s jaw and she's coming undone. “I know you will.”

“Thanks,” is all that Emma can say because when your best friend, who you're in love with, kisses you out of nowhere the hope that rises in your chest is too crushing to let you form proper words.

“Let's go,” Cristina says and takes Emma’s hand again and tugs her to the rooftop’s door. 

Unsurprisingly they don't mention the kiss again. 

This one tugs at Emma’s heart for the rest of the year.

 

* * *

 

Half of the time, when she's with Emma, Cristina doesn't know why she does the things she does.

The kiss lingers. It's on the back of Cristina’s head and she can still feel Emma’s skin under her fingertips and she can still hear Emma’s soft gasp. Emma. Emma. Emma. 

Cristina can barely focus on what she has to do. 

By the end of the cheer routine she's panting and her heart is beating too fast and she doesn't know why, she's not even tired, but the thought of Emma can make her heart race more than anything else in this world.

“Are you okay Cristina?” asks one of the other cheerleaders, Dana, as they sit on the bleachers to watch the game. 

Cristina only has eyes for Emma, who starts by serving first, and in that second she notices she's gripping the bench too tightly. She lets go slowly and breathes and tries to calm down.

“Yeah.”

“I didn't know you were such a fan of volleyball.”

“I'm really not.”

She watches Emma take a jump and soar through the air for only seconds and she's brought back to a similar time when they were kids, when she had thought Emma was invincible. 

And just like back then, Cristina can't shake the feeling of awe she gets whenever she sees Emma being so in her element. 

She scores the first point with just the serve and Cristina jumps to her feet and cheers with the rest of the school.

Dana raises an eyebrow. “You're not?” 

Cristina blushes.

“Ah, I get it. You're just a fan of Emma.”

Cristina blushes harder. “She's just my best friend.”

God, it feels like a lie.

Even Dana looks perplexed. “Really? But I thought you two—nevermind.”

“What? You thought we what?” 

Dana bites her lips and she has the look on her face of someone who has said too much but Cristina doesn't flinch, she stares at her until she sighs and says:

“I just thought you two were dating, you know.”

Cristina blinks and she can't breathe. “Why would you think that?” 

And Dana laughs and scoffs as if it's the most ridiculous question she's ever heard.

Emma scores another point and everyone cheers again. Cristina feels relief in her heart, but she can't stop processing Dana’s words.

“Have you seen yourselves? Cristina,  _ everyone  _ thinks you two are a thing.”

“I—what? That's silly.”

“Sure,” Dana says, smiling. “If you say so. So Emma’s single?”

The look on Dana’s face makes Cristina’s skin crawl and her blood boil. But just a little. She's just worried about her best friend.

“Yeah,” Cristina says with some difficulty that she can't understand very well. 

Dana laughs. Cristina can't help but notice she's pretty. Brown hair and freckles, perhaps she's Emma’s type. Perhaps. Cristina doesn't know why the thought makes her angry. Just a little.

“Don't worry, I'm not going to even try, I wouldn't stand a chance.”

“What do you mean?” 

Dana just smiles again and leaves the question hanging. Before she turns to talk to the other girls she points with her chin towards the court and Cristina sees Emma smiling and waving at her as they do the team’s rotation. 

Cristina smiles and waves back, enthralled by Emma’s sparkly eyes, and she wonders why Dana didn't answer her question.

 

* * *

 

When Emma gets to hold her trophy and hug Cristina at the same time, she feels like she's twelve and she still feels like Cristina is the best thing she's ever held in her arms.

 

* * *

 

“I'm exhausted,” Emma grunts, collapsing on her bed and leaving out a sigh that ripples through her very soul. All of her muscles ache, but her heart is filled with energy.

“Me too,” Cristina says, laying more carefully on the bed. “I’m so glad the year’s almost over.”

Emma doesn't have a twin bed anymore. Her bedroom in Jem’s house is smaller than the other, but the bed is bigger, and the walls are painted in a light blue because Emma got tired of the white. 

Ever since she had to move she doesn't like having sleepovers with Cristina here. It doesn't feel the same, but at least the walls don't echo traces of forgotten kisses anymore.

“Thank you,” Emma says, reaching across the bed to hold Cristina’s hand.

“What for?” 

“For what you did today.” She takes a deep breath. “How you helped me.”

There is something unspoken between them but it stays unspoken even when Cristina smiles and intertwines her fingers with Emma’s.

“It's what best friends do.”

 

* * *

 

Cristina has to watch Emma date Cameron in senior year.

It's not pleasant.

“You know you're an idiot, right?” Julian asks one day while they're having lunch. Or rather, he's having lunch and Cristina is too busy glaring daggers across the cramped cafeteria to where Emma sits with Cameron and the rest of his friends.

“Excuse me?” 

Julian rolls his eyes. “You're an idiot. Emma too.”

“Thanks Julian.”

“I'm just saying, if you tell her how you feel—”

“What are you talking about?”

“Cristina,” Julian sighs. “I know you're in—” 

Cristina suddenly stands up, picking up her empty tray of food. “Don't say things like that, Julian, Emma's just my best friend, and I care about her.”

“ _ Just  _ your best friend?” 

Cristina glares daggers at him, too, and doesn't say anything as she stalks away from the cafeteria. 

 

* * *

 

Cristina knows best friends don't react like that at implications like Julian's. 

She also knows Emma is not just her best friend.

 

* * *

 

Emma lets Cameron kiss her and hold her hand and she thinks that it's nice, that maybe it can work.

It's much like middle school except that there's less fumbling and less awkwardness.

She goes on dates with Cameron and tries not to think of Cristina. She succeeds but only most of the times.

 

* * *

 

“Tell me something,” Helen says idly as she passes the pages on a book Julian is completely sure she isn't reading. “Emma is dating Cameron Ashdown?”

“Yes,” he says, lazily twirling a pencil on his fingers. It seems like inspiration is not going to come to him today.

“How long?” 

He shrugs. “Since the beginning of senior year.”

“Wow. Really?” 

“Why do you look surprised?” 

“I didn't think they would last a month, let alone three.”

Julian knows the answer Helen is going to give, but he still asks. “Why?” 

“C’mon Jules,” she says, setting the book down and steadily staring at him. Julian looks up from his sketchbook. “Would you date someone who's clearly in love with someone else?” 

“So you know, too?” 

“Everyone with eyes knows.”

“Except for the two of them.”

Helen hums under her breath. “Maybe you should tell them, Jules, aren't you three like, very close?” 

He immediately shakes his head. “No, it's not my place.”

“Why not?” 

“Because—it's complicated.”

“Ah Jules, it's not as complicated as you think.”

Julian sighs. “Love is complicated, Helen.”

“God, you're such an artist.”

“Is that a compliment?”

The smile she gives him it's the same one she always had when Julian was a little kid that asked questions like why wasn't the moon made of cheese.

“I love you, little brother, please don't get your heart broken.” 

Julian blinks and before he knows it Helen is kissing his forehead and he doesn't know why he wants to cry.

 

* * *

 

“Well that was the worst movie we’ve ever seen,” Emma says. 

“Agree.”

She and Cristina sit on Cristina’s couch, Emma’s legs sprawled over Cristina’s lap and a shared blanket falling off both of them. The credits roll on the screen and all Cristina can see of Emma are glimpses in the flickering darkness.

“Are you tired?” Cristina asks.

“Not really. Give me a second.”

Before Cristina can ask for what Emma is already standing up and fishing her phone from the small table next to the couch. Cristina rolls her eyes because she knows exactly who Emma is texting.

“What?” Emma asks.

“What what?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Apparently Cristina isn’t as subtle as she thinks. “I’m not looking at you like anything.”

And apparently, Emma knows her too well. “Tina, tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing.”

Emma pouts and she throws her phone somewhere and tackles Cristina on the couch, pinning her down and mercilessly tickling her. Cristina squirms and laughs but she can’t get away from Emma, and soon she’s breathless and her face is red and Emma’s giggles fill her ears.

“Tell me what’s going on with you,” Emma says, still giggling. It’s rare to hear her giggle, and the joy of it makes Cristina giddy. “Why are you so grumpy?”

“I’m not grumpy!”

“Yeah right.”

Cristina manages to catch Emma’s hands and she feels like she’s doesn’t have enough oxygen to pull into her lungs. Emma leans over her with her eyes impossibly dark and her lips parted and the most adorable flush dusting her cheeks. 

“Cristina—please?”

Cristina swallows the words and shakes her head and she thinks she can see herself reflected in Emma’s eyes and she does not like the sight of it, she looks vulnerable and selfish and she looks like she’s in love with her best friend but it’s too scared to tell her.

“I’m fine, Emma, I promise.”

“You sure?”

Cristina’s voice becomes a whisper. “Yeah.”

“You can tell me anything, we’re best friends you know.”

_ Are we? _

Cristina does her best effort to smile like nothing is wrong and like Emma’s closeness and the softness of her doesn’t make her mind fuzzy and her chest ache. 

When did this love became so painful?

“I know, Emma, I know.”

 

* * *

 

Cristina wakes up in the middle of the night with Emma’s nose pressed firmly against her cheek and her warm breath tickling her neck. Someone had turned off the TV and thrown more blankets on top of them.

Cristina tries to stretch and she realizes that Emma’s legs are tangled with her own, Emma’s arms tightly around her torso. She realizes that there isn’t an inch of hers that isn’t covered in Emma. 

She thinks that it’s fitting, because she also realizes her heart is the same way.

 

* * *

 

“You look pretty,” Emma mumbles.

“You’re not looking at me,” Cristina says, applying eyeshadow on Emma’s closed eyes.

“I don’t have to.”

Cristina laughs, she’s standing between Emma’s legs as Emma sits in front of her bedroom mirror, and the place is awfully quiet once Cristina’s chuckles die down.

“Okay, I’m done,” Cristina says, admiring Emma’s angular face accented by the soft strokes of pink on her cheekbones and the way her eyes stand out more when surrounded by black eyeliner. “You look—”

“ _ You  _ look pretty,” Emma says again, warm hand cupping Cristina’s chin to get a better look at her. Cristina blushes at how thoroughly Emma analizes her, her eyes slowly running the expanse of her face before settling on her lips. Cristina blushes harder. “I hate how you can rock red lipstick so well.  _ And  _ I hate how amazing your boobs look in that dress.”

Cristina pretends to snort. “I spent a lot of time on your makeup, it’d be nice if you at least looked at it.”

Emma laughs and stands up to look at herself in the vanity mirror. Her lips curl into a pleased smile and Cristina feels her heart fluttering.

“You know what this remind me of?” Emma asks idly as she reaches for the pins holding her hair up. Cristina moves to do it for her and she hums a low thanks.

“What?”

“Remember Cameron’s party at the end of sophomore year? You did my makeup back then, too.”

“Ah yes, you’ve always used me for your own purposes. Turn around.”

Emma smiles as Cristina reaches for lipstick. “I can do my own lipstick.”

Cristina’s smile matches hers. “Hush.”

Cristina holds Emma’s chin and leans close and remembers how it felt to kiss Emma on that empty, small storage room, she remembers how it felt to kiss Emma on a quiet rooftop and how it felt to kiss Emma on the safety of a familiar twin bed in the dark.

The thought that Emma is now kissing someone else everyday makes Cristina’s stomach churn and she doesn’t know how to keep the ache within her chest from growing and growing and growing until she can barely remember how it was like when loving Emma was easy.

Perhaps it had never been easy.

She finishes Emma’s lipstick and reaches for the pins on Emma’s hair and swallows hard when it comes stumbling down her shoulders and around her face in the loveliest curls Cristina has ever seen.

“Ready?” Emma asks in a low, husky voice. She has her eyes locked on Cristina’s and for some reason just staring at Emma like this feels like something she shouldn’t be doing.

“Ready,” Cristina breathes out, forcing herself to take a step backwards and convincing herself the look of disappointment on Emma’s eyes is just her imagination.

It’s not.

 

* * *

 

Julian sits with Livvy on the porch steps and watches Emma and Cristina stumble through Cristina’s garden in a fit of giggles, arms linked together and dresses hitched up over their ankles so they don’t trip. 

“Hey loser,” Emma says with a grin. “Ready to go?”

“I’ve been ready for the past thirty minutes.” 

Julian stands up and immediately has to deal with both Emma and Cristina whistling at him. He rolls his eyes, smoothing his tux.

“He looks like James Bond.” Livvy chuckles. “And you two look stunning. Ah, I wish I could go to prom.”

Julian ruffles her hair. “Just wait a few more years.”

Livvy stands up quickly, smiling, and snaps a few pictures with her phone she claims she'll send to Helen in a while. Julian kisses her on the cheek and tells her to be good. There’s something bittersweet about it.

“Ready?” Emma asks.

“Yeah,” Cristina says, and Julian just nods.

He notices there’s a small stain of red lipstick on Emma’s cheek.

When they get to the school Emma is immediately greeted by Cameron and Julian and Cristina both look away when they kiss.

Julian can’t stop thinking about the stain on Emma’s face, and how it doesn’t go away for the rest of the night. 

He sees the glances Cristina keeps casting at Emma and wonders how is it possible that Cristina watches so much without noticing the most important thing.

 

* * *

 

There is a corsage around Emma’s wrist that Cristina didn’t put on. She knows why it bothers her and she knows that she can never tell why that is.

“Are you sure this was a good idea?” Julian asks. 

They walk two steps behind Emma and Cameron, who are holding hands and leaning against each other and talking happily.

“What are you talking about?” Cristina asks in a whisper and she tries not to see the way Emma laughs brightly at whatever Cameron is saying.

“Coming here together.”

“There's nothing wrong with going to prom with your friend.”

He sighs. “Believe me, I know. But—I don’t know, Cristina, I just thought you’d like to come with someone else.”

“Who? Rayan?”

Julian sighs again. “Just forget it. Let’s have fun tonight, okay? It’s that once-in-a-lifetime kind of night.”

She smiles but it doesn’t feel genuine. It’s never going to feel genuine if she’s forced to watch Emma hold someone else’s hand. “Yeah.”

 

* * *

 

“Why does your mouth smell like that?” Cristina asks, nearly shouting to be heard over the loud music.

Emma’s ears are pounding and her head is fuzzy and she blinks and tries to memorize Cristina’s face in the changing lights of the gym. Bright yellow and neon purple and icy blue. “Like what?”

Cristina leans forward and scrunches her nose. “Like vodka.”

“I snuck in a bottle earlier,” Emma says, shrugging, and then laughs. 

Cristina’s hair is falling from her up-do and it curls around her face and shoulders and she’s sweaty from dancing but her makeup is still perfect and Emma wants to kiss her.

“You’re terrible,” Cristina laughs and Emma wants to kiss her.

“Guess so.”

Cristina’s smile almost seems like an invitation and Emma’s hands twitch at her side because she’s longing and longing for something she can’t have. 

She’s tipsy and she really wants to kiss Cristina.

“Are you having fun?” Cristina asks slowly, leaning over Emma to speak at her ear and her fingers brush against Emma’s shoulder and Emma shudders like she’s cold but in reality she feels like she’s on fire.

“Yeah.”

“Where’s Cameron?”

Emma’s illusion shatters in a second and she reminds herself that she can’t be thinking of kissing her best friend like that, and she reminds herself that Cameron is somewhere in this gym and he’s the one that held her hand when they walked in and he’s the one that kissed her on a forgotten corner of the gym when no one was looking.

“I don’t know,” she mutters and suddenly the fog of her mind clears and she’s smiling apologetically at Cristina. “But I should go find him.”

Emma convinces herself the look of disappointment and hurt on Cristina’s eyes is just her imagination.

It’s not.

 

* * *

 

She finds Cameron standing on the bleachers over the football field. His tie is undone and slung around his shoulders and his tux jacket is thrown over the bleachers, his shirt is out of his pants and the first two buttons are undone. And his hair is a mess.

Emma flinches and thinks that perhaps Cameron is too drunk to hear what she wants to say but when he turns around, framed by the night sky, and smiles at her she knows that there is no way to get out of this unscathed.

“Em,” he says slowly, and his eyes are focused though he managed to stumble on a single syllable. “You found me.”

“Are you okay?”

He blinks and carefully sits on the bleachers, looking over the football field as if he were looking at something much more meaningful and distant, he had the look of someone chasing an impossible dream.

Finally, just when Emma thinks he’s not going to say anything, Cameron sighs. “I know why you’re here.”

“You’re leaving, Cam, what do you want me to do?”

His laugh is bitter and it stings. “We’re  _ all  _ leaving.”

Emma thinks that there are few worse things that could hurt her as much as that. Not because of Cameron leaving, but because he’s right, everyone is leaving. Including Cristina.

“Well that’s fine,” Cameron says, shrugging. “We wouldn’t be the first high school couple to break up before going to college.”

Emma doesn’t know why she feels so bad and she doesn’t know why she sits next to Cameron and places a hand on his leg. She’s trying to be comforting but she doesn’t know who needs the comfort more between the two of them.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says. 

“But I am,” she says. “I’m the asshole that breaks up with her boyfriend during prom.”

Cameron shrugs. “I knew we wouldn’t last.”

“What? Why?”

He smiles he gives her it’s sad and Emma doesn’t know why she feels like Cameron knows things about her that she doesn’t. “You’re completely clueless, aren’t you? Well I guess it doesn’t matter now. I get it, Emma, I’m not mad at you, in case you’re wondering.”

“But Cam—why did you know we wouldn’t last? Tell me.”

“I think you know the answer to that question, even if it’s deep down.” Cameron pats Emma’s hand on his leg and then stands up. He stumbles but doesn’t fall and when he picks up his tux jacket and smiles at Emma he looks much like the freckled kid that kissed her on eighth grade. “I’ll see you around, Em.”

Emma is too stunned to say anything.

She spends an hour by herself on the bleachers and wonders what Cameron meant and she can only come up with one answer but it’s so ridiculous she doesn’t consider it for too long.

She misses the rest of her own prom.

 

* * *

 

Emma disappears and Cristina knows she must be somewhere with Cameron. 

She thinks that this once-in-a-lifetime kind of night is bitter and cold and lonely.

 

* * *

 

“Did you have fun?” Tessa asks as soon as Emma walks through the door and she would’ve been startled by her voice if it wasn't for the fact that she saw the lights on from outside.

Tessa sits on the armchair with a book on her lap and she stops only to greet Emma with a warm smile.

“Yeah,” Emma says.

“I’m glad. I thought you were staying at Cristina’s place tonight.”

Emma doesn’t think she can ever explain how seeing Cristina right now would be the last blow she needs before crumbling. “I decided to just come back home. Good night, Tessa. Oh, I’ll show you the pictures tomorrow!”

And without waiting for an answer she sprints up the stairs and locks herself in her room and her heart pounds and she rubs at her wrist, the place where her corsage should have been.

Emma falls asleep in her dress and with her makeup on.

She dreams about kissing Cristina under the changing lights of a dance that was not what Emma expected it to be.

 

* * *

 

Cristina’s bed feels empty without Emma but she thinks that perhaps that is for the best.

She dreams about kissing Emma in front of her vanity mirror as they get ready for a dance that was not what Cristina expected it to be.

 

* * *

 

“Well kids, this is the last time we’ll ever get to party as high schoolers.” Rayan stands on a stack of wooden boxes that look incredibly unstable but he manages to keep his balance as he takes a wild swing of his beer. The bonfire next to him rages. “So let’s have fun!”

Everybody cheers and whoever is in charge of the speakers turns the music up and soon everything Emma can hear is the beat of the bass and a bunch of people screaming.

“Charming,” Cristina says and takes a sip of her own beer.

“Should I regret coming to this party?” Julian asks and shifts on his feet as he watches Rayan and two other kids hold Cameron over the beer keg.

Emma claps Julian on the back and smiles. “Probably, yeah. But Rayan is right, so let’s just have fun.” 

 

* * *

 

Emma dances with Cristina and they laugh and drink and forget that soon they’re going to be away from each other.

 

* * *

 

“Cristina,” Emma mumbles in Cristina’s ear as they press harder into each other in the middle of the dancing crowd. Cristina sighs at the sound of her full name, and Emma’s hands on her hips feel a little too nice. “I love you.”

Cristina’s heart skips several beats before she reminds herself that Emma is drunk and Emma is sad and Emma is not saying those words the way Cristina wants her to say them.

The air is thick with sweat and whiskey and smoke and Emma’s skin glistens under the growing light of the bonfire, blonde hair turned red under the reflection of the flames. 

And Cristina thinks she's going to fall apart.

 

* * *

 

“I love you too,” Cristina whispers back and it's so low Emma can't hear her over the music but she can read the words on her lips.

Emma’s heart breaks because Cristina is not saying those words the way Emma is.

 

* * *

 

Emma is tipsy and her head is spinning and she stumbles away from Cameron and his friends because she doesn't want to deal with the guilt. She stumbles away from Cristina and her friends because she doesn't want to deal with the longing on her chest. 

Instead she tries to find Julian. 

And she finds him.

Emma’s eyes widen when she notices that Julian is not only in the middle of playing beer pong with a bunch of other kids but there's also a pretty girl that clings to his arm and whispers on his ear.

Emma immediately turns around before Julian can see her because she knows if Julian sees her he's going to stop doing what he's doing to come talk to her, and Emma doesn't want him to give up that moment for her.

She ends up stumbling back towards Cristina’s group and the cheerleaders welcome Emma like she's some sort of miracle. The praise makes her smirk and she winks at one of the girls that looks at her with eyes she understands too well.

Before Emma can as much as ask the girl what her name is Cristina is tugging her away by the hand with a look of defiance on her eyes that Emma can’t understand. 

“Tina?”

“How drunk are you right now?”

Emma swallows. “Very.”

“And how are you going to drive us home?”

“I uh—I was hoping Julian would, but he is kinda… busy.”

Cristina tilts her head.

“I mean  _ busy _ . I’m pretty sure he’s as drunk as everyone else.”

“What? Julian?”

“Yep.”

“Wow.” Cristina sighs. “Then what are we going to do? You do realize this place is in the middle of nowhere, right?”

Emma pushes her bottle of beer into Cristina’s hand and smiles. “Relax, Tina, everyone here is drunk, too. People are going to start passing out soon and Rayan will have no choice but let us sleep on his state.”

Cristina sighs. “So we’ll sleep in the open? This isn’t Cameron’s house we can’t exactly crash in one of the guestrooms.”

“I wasn’t planning on sleeping.”

Cristina clenches her fists and her jaw and her eyes and Emma is too hazy to notice. “Right. Is that why you were eyeing Dana like that?”

“Her name’s Dana? That’s good to know.”

“Emma,” Cristina groans.

“What?” Emma snaps all of a sudden, filled with a strange surge of annoyance. “Are you not having fun, Cristina? What’s your problem?”

“I don’t have a problem.”

“Really? Because you’ve been acting weird all night! No, actually, you've been acting weird all  _ year _ .”

Cristina closes her eyes and she thinks of phone calls in the evening and Emma casually saying she’s going to date Cameron now and she thinks of Cameron’s arm around Emma’s shoulders and Emma’s easy laugh when she was with him. She thinks of Emma staring at Dana with a sort of hunger that made Cristina’s stomach churn and—

She shouldn’t be jealous. She knows. She knows. The knowledge stabs her but it doesn’t do anything to alleviate the deep ache in her chest that feels suffocating from time to time.

“Tell me what’s going on, Tina, please. I don’t get it.”

“Me neither,” Cristina breathes out. Best friends don’t get jealous like this.

“I just wanted to have fun with you before you go to New York, why does that feel so hard right now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want to leave? Remember Helen’s home I’m sure she could—”

“No. No, I don’t want to leave. I want to be with you.”

Emma’s smile falters and it’s tragic because she has no idea how much Cristina means those words.

 

* * *

 

Helen and Aline end up picking them up.

"What happened to him?" Helen asks as soon as she catches a glimpse of her brother, slumping against Emma's car with his head hanging and his eyelids fluttering.

Julian is muttering "Oh my God I'm drunk" over and over again and his lips are swollen and his eyes are hazy and there is a giant hickey on the corner of his neck. Emma is both proud and shocked.

“A girl happened,” Emma slurs, laying on the hood of her car.

“Girls can be terrible,” Cristina says, laying next to Emma.

Helen laughs. “I’m not sure I should agree there. ”

“You better not,” Aline says and they all laugh except for Julian who is just staring dumbfoundedly at his own hands.

Helen drives Emma’s car and takes her and Cristina home and then waves them goodbye and leaves with Aline. And though it’s nearly two in the morning Helen is still awake enough to tease them all the ride there.

“Thanks for letting me stay here,” Cristina says as Emma pushes open the front door. “Mamá would kill me if I go home like this.”

“Like what?”

“Drunk,” Cristina says and they both giggle. “So thanks.”

“That’s what friends are for,” Emma says. 

“Jem and Tessa don’t mind?”

“Jem and Tessa are visiting some friends in New York— or London— or both. I have no idea.”

Emma stares at Cristina as they stand motionless in the living room, a lazy smile dangles on the corner of Cristina’s mouth and her eyes are lidded and hazy with the fog of too much whiskey and beer.

“I’m going to miss you,” Emma says all of a sudden and Cristina takes a deep breath like a soldier getting ready for a mortal battle and Emma knows it’s because this is the exact conversation they’ve been dancing around all night. The conversation they want to avoid more than anything else.

(Maybe not more than anything else.)

(There is other conversation neither of them want to have.)

“I’m going to miss you too,” Cristina says. “But—It’ll be fine, we can talk all the time, we’re gonna be the same as we are now. Right? Don't worry.”

Emma nods. “Yeah, I’m not worried about that.”

They both remember being kids and lying in the middle of the woods whispering promises of never changing and they both hold that tiny promise more sacred than anything else in the world. 

They stumble to Emma’s room and when Cristina takes off her shirt Emma has to force herself to look away. She closes her eyes and lays on her bed and wonders if this is a good idea after all, because she can still feel the alcohol buzzing on her blood and even though she’s tired her mind is awake—and hazy, which is bad.

Because Emma knows she makes bad decisions when she’s hazy.

When Cristina finally lies next to her, wearing Emma’s pajamas, Emma’s heart is already beating a hundred miles per hour.

They're quiet in the darkness of Emma’s room and the scene feels all too familiar.

“Emma,” Cristina mumbles in the space between them and Emma aches to close it. “You still look beautiful.”

Emma's breath catches in her throat and she realizes that if she wants to close the space between her and Cristina she can just do it. 

And she does it.

Cristina hums happily as Emma wraps her arms around her and she ends up with Cristina’s face against her chest, cheek pressed warmly over the rapid beat of her heart and Emma thinks that this is how utter peace feels like.

They've had dozens and dozens of sleepovers, from when they were kids and Cristina’s knees dug on Emma’s legs to the nights after quiet kisses when they slept as far from each other as possible, preferring the distance and the edges of small twin beds than facing the crushing reality of their feelings.

Cristina shifts until she's face to face with Emma and she bumps their noses together, smiling with that absent look on her eyes. 

Emma has her hands splayed over the small of Cristina’s back and she leans forward to give her a kiss on the cheek that has Cristina sighing. Emma doesn't know what she's doing when she kisses Cristina’s forehead, too, and she doesn't know what she's doing when she kisses the corner of her mouth.

All she knows is that Cristina tilts her chin up like she's looking for something, or like she's waiting for something.

“I'm very drunk right now, Tina,” Emma warns, echoing herself from years past. And like years past, she pretends she's not lying.

“Me too,” Cristina responds and pretends she's not lying either.

Emma doesn't know if she kissed Cristina or if Cristina kissed her. All she knows is that her mind is invaded with clarity as soon as their lips touch. All she knows is that Cristina presses forward and tangles her fingers on Emma’s hair and all she knows is the gentle curve of Cristina’s hipbone against hers.

(Emma also knows this is dangerous. That this is not a good idea.) 

(She doesn't care.) 

(Emma likes danger, after all.) 

(She knows Cristina has always been her one and only doom. The best bad decision she can possibly take.) 

Emma rolls to her back and Cristina climbs on top of her and they don't stop kissing because they're both afraid of what may happen if they stop. They're both afraid of stopping because they don't know if they'll ever kiss again.

Emma toys with the hem of Cristina’s shirt for only a second before Cristina leans back and pulls it over her head. Emma gasps and she doesn't even have time to look at Cristina (because she needs to see the look on her eyes) before they're kissing again.

And if Emma keeps her eyes open is only so she can see the arc of Cristina’s shoulders above her.

She runs her hands over Cristina’s back, tracing maps and constellations and wondering how someone could be so incredibly perfect.

Emma pushes forward until Cristina is the one on her back and they barely stop kissing as Emma takes off her own shirt. 

And it's dangerous and it's a bad decision and it's stupid but the way Cristina looks at Emma makes her feel like it's the most right thing in the world.

 

* * *

 

Emma presses a slow, open mouthed kiss on the hollow of Cristina’s throat and Cristina thinks that the ache in her chest may actually be a good thing.

 

* * *

 

Cristina throws her head back against the pillows and sees beautiful colors unraveling behind her eyelids and she thinks her body is forever going to be marked by the paths that Emma’s hands trail down. 

She thinks that she doesn't mind, as long as is Emma’s touch and not anyone else's.

 

* * *

 

Emma loves everything about Cristina. 

From the way her chest heaves up and down to the way her legs curl around Emma’s waist to the way she bites her lips so she doesn't make a noise when Emma kisses her neck.

Later when they're both exhausted and sticky with sweat and intoxicated with the recent memories of hard kisses and careful touches Emma's heart pounds and she realizes what they just did.

She's nearly overwhelmed by guilt but she doesn't think she would take it back. 

 

* * *

 

Cristina huddles close to Emma in bed and breathes in pure bliss when Emma wraps an arm around her shoulders.

She forgets about what best friends should do and she just thinks about sloppy kisses given at three in the morning and the lies they whisper to keep themselves safe. 

Perhaps if Cristina doesn't fall asleep the night won't have to end and she can stay like this forever, with Emma gently stroking her back and their very beings in sync. 

Perhaps if daylight doesn't come she won't have to pretend the night never happened. 

But daylight comes and when Cristina wakes up Emma isn't there anymore and there's only the cold space on the bed and the messy sheets and the discarded clothes as a reminder. 

Cristina holds the stolen memories close to her heart but she still wishes she could forget them.

 

* * *

 

They don't mention the night again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when will i learn to control myself when writing lmao this is sooo long i'm sorry if there were any grammatical mistakes editing it was a nightmare


	3. iii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the end is finally here guys! sorry for the long wait, and i hope you love it as much as i do!

Emma Carstairs is twenty six old when she decides to let go of Cristina Rosales.

This is how it goes:

 

* * *

 

“Call me when you get there,” Emma says, brushing Cristina’s hair behind her ear. “You know what? Call me when the plane takes off, and then call me when they serve lunch. Then call me when you get there.”

Cristina smiles. “Yes mom.”

Emma promised herself she wasn't going to cry but there's a sparkle on Cristina’s eyes and the curve of her lips is sad and Emma already misses her.

“I love you,” Emma whispers in the crook of Cristina’s neck, arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders and Cristina shudders slightly.

“I love you too,” she says, tracing soothing patterns on the small of Emma's back. “I'm gonna miss you.”

“Me too.”

They both want to say so much more. There are words unspoken and they stay like that as Cristina kisses Emma's cheek and smiles at her.

“Have fun,” Emma says. “But don't have _too_ much fun.”

“Of course not. I'll see you on the holidays, okay?”

Emma nods and watches as Cristina turns around and passes through airport security and Cristina only looks over her shoulder once.

Emma stands there and thinks that perhaps this is a good thing. Perhaps she can fall out of love.

Perhaps if Cristina isn't around all the time she can forget about quiet kisses and careful lies and longing.

Perhaps the next time she sees Cristina she will be able to call her “best friend” without lying.

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure you have everything?”

“Yep,” Emma says. “And if I forgot something—well, I'm not that far away from you guys anyways.”

Tessa smiles. “You're going to do great, sweetie. We couldn't be prouder.”

For some weird reason Emma feels a lump on her throat and she has to blink away tears. Jem smiles softly and caresses Emma’s cheek for a second before she nearly tackles him and Tessa in a crushing hug.

“You know I couldn't be more grateful for what you've done for me, right?”

Jem pulls away with a smile and leaves the softest of kisses on Emma’s forehead. “Now we know. Thank you, Emma.”

“You're thanking me? For what?”

“For bringing light to us when we needed it the most.”

Emma can't blink away the tears this time and it seems she isn't the only one. “I'll call you as soon as I get there, okay?”

“Please,” Tessa says. “Take care.”

Emma does her best to smile but she knows she's still crying and she hugs Tessa and then Jem again, for good measure. “Always.”

 

* * *

 

College is exciting, but Emma misses Cristina.

They text all the time, and they call each other when they can. Most of the times it's at night and when they're both too tired to say much, and more often than not they both fall asleep with their phones on their hands.

And despite promises of never changing and promises of constancy and friendship, Emma can feel them shifting.

It's subtle at first, texts unanswered for hours and then unanswered for days and calls that go to voicemail and then one of them forgets to Skype on Tuesday night.

When Emma realizes the last text she sent Cristina was three days ago she thinks that maybe it's a good thing.

 

* * *

 

“Truth or dare?”

Emma, with her head nearly dangling out of the edge of the bed, looks up from her book and frowns. “Really? Don't you have a shiton of work to do?”

Emily shrugs. “I do, but I'm also very bored. I need something to clear my head.”

“Oh yeah, because I'm always willing to be a distraction, never mind _I_ have a shiton of work to do too.”

“My God you're so grumpy.”

“I'm not grumpy, I'm focused. It's different.”

Emily throws a pillow at her. “Just answer the stupid question. Truth or dare?”

“Fine. Truth,” Emma finally says, rolling her eyes.

“You just said truth because you don't want to move, didn't you?”

“Yep. And now I've said my truth, nice game.”

Emily throws another pillow at her.

“You're two pillows down already, I have the advantage now.”

Perhaps Emily would've laugh, but Emma's voice is so monotone she only frowns. “You used to be a fun roommate, what happened to you?”

“College happened,” Emma says.

“Nah it's not that. I know your finals are over. You're grumpy over something else. Ohhh, _someone?_ ”

Emma clenches her hands around the book and takes a deep breath. Emily, who watches her keenly, raises both eyebrows and sits upright on her own bed.

“ _Someone?_ Really? The stone-cold Emma Carstairs has a boyfriend at home? And you never told me? I'm hurt, Emma, I'm hurt.”

“Stone-cold? How dare you? I'm nothing but a ray of sunshine.”

Emily scoffs. “You're being pretty stone-cold right now. Did he hurt you? I'll kick his ass, Emma, I'm not afraid.”

“I don't have a boyfriend,” Emma says. She tries to focus on the words written in front of her but they slip from her mind. Groaning, Emma finally looks up. She finds Emily looking at her with expectant eyes and Emma’s stomach churns because she doesn't know how to explain her mood.

She doesn't know to how explain she hasn't spoken to Cristina in days, and that makes her feel drained and tired. She doesn't know how to explain she hasn't texted Cristina in days, and how that makes her feel like she's missing some important part of her.

She never realized just how much of her is filled with Cristina until now that those parts of her are empty.

She thinks that even if she falls out of love with Cristina she doesn't want to lose her best friend over a thing as stupid as distance.

“Yeah, yeah,” Emily says. “You don't want to tell me, I get it, if you want I'll leave you to your brooding.”

“That'd be great, thanks.”

“Emma,” she groans. “You're killing me.”

“Look, Emily, it's nothing personal, but I'm just not in the mood for girl-talk today.”

“Well, it's Friday,” Emily says and suddenly stands up, taking the book out of Emma's hands. “How about we get in the mood?”

“Are you asking me on a date?” Emma frowns. Around Emily she seems to do that a lot.

“Not everyone is into you, Emma.”

“Everyone with _eyes.”_

Emily laughs and for some reason Emma only now realizes something: her roommate is very pretty.

“I must be blind, then. No, I wasn't asking you on a date, but we should go out tonight and have fun. Maybe you'll forget about whoever hurt you.”

“Cristina didn't hurt me,” Emma says immediately and immediately regrets it when Emily's eyes light up.

“ _Cristina?_ Oh my. Is she your girlfriend? What happened?”

“She's not my girlfriend!”

Emily laughs again. “You sure? Is that the same Cristina that's always calling you?”

Emma’s closes her eyes. “Not always.”

There's a heartbeat of silence where Emma feels like she's going to drown in all the distance that separates her from Cristina. She thinks it's not fair life has forced them apart. They are supposed to be a team. Always.

Except when they're not.

(Except when they lie.)

“Uh—Emma? It kinda feels like you're having a moment.”

“Cristina’s my best friend,” Emma says. She picks up her phone from where it rests on the nightstand but this time she doesn't sigh when she sees there are no new notifications. This time she doesn't feel anything and she wonders if this is what she needs.

She hopes this is what she needs because it's definitely not what she wants.

“You know what?” Emma stands up. “Let's go out. It certainly can't hurt.”

Emily smiles and Emma doesn't know if she's making the right choice.

 

* * *

 

Perhaps going to a club with a bunch of Emily’s friends from her psych classes is not what Emma had in mind but perhaps it's exactly what she needs.

 

* * *

 

“Emma here,” Emily says, bright and cheery and very, very drunk, one arm around Emma's shoulders, “got hurt by her girlfriend Cristina, and she needs to get over her.”

Emma wants to correct her and say Cristina is definitely not her girlfriend and she definitely didn't hurt her, but the words die on her mouth for some reason and she thinks it's because Emily's words are not very far from reality.

Besides, Emma is drunk.

Emma is drunk and giggling and she's drunk and giddy and she's drunk and staring too much at one of Emily's friend.

Emily kisses Emma in the temple and raises her cup. There's cheering, and Emma finds herself going along with it and she thinks that this is nice.

And maybe the girl that's smiling at her is not Cristina but Emma’s chest still feels fuzzy and she thinks that yes, it is nice.

It could work.

“I think we need more shots,” Emma says and there's a chorus of laughter and she feels she's on the right place.

 

* * *

 

Emma wakes up on another girl's bed, hazy and sticky and with a pounding headache, and she gets away from there before she can even process what happened.

She leaves the girl behind, sleeping among messy sheets.

 

* * *

 

“You got top of the class again.”

“It seems so.”

“Congratulations,” Zara grumbles under her breath and Cristina gives her the sweetest smile she can manage.

“Thanks, Zara. Maybe next month will be your month.”

At first knowing that she and Zara Dearborn were going to the exact same college was more than a little annoying for Cristina. Now, however, she gets little moments like these, when she can see Zara’s face turn red of anger and when she can see Zara sputter like she's some sort of fish out of the water.

And Cristina lives for little moments like these.

It seems that lately she's living for less and less things.

She leaves Zara and the little board on the classroom with their names on it behind. There should be freedom on her steps, there should be a wisp of independence as she walks the campus by herself. There should be at least a little happiness at seeing her name at the top of every board on every classroom.

Cristina has most of the things she wants: freedom and independence and success. And yet most of the things she wants do not include the thing she wants the most.

She misses Emma.

The thought doesn't ever leave her. She thinks of her when her mind wanders off while reading, she thinks of her while she sits on a cafeteria and puts sugar on her coffee and she thinks of her when she goes running in the morning.

Cristina sees Emma in quiet places, she sees her when she turns around, ready to share a joke before realizing the one that's always been next to her is not there anymore.

Emma is not there, she is all the way across the country. They're not separated by the Blackthorn’s house anymore, nor by the 30 minute distance between two towns. Cristina remembers being 15 years old and feeling like those 30 minutes were the end of the world.

Now they're separated by miles and miles and hours and hours Cristina doesn't dare count.

And lately it seems they're separated by something else.

She checks her phone as she opens the door to her dorm and she has a brief moment of hope as she opens new messages, but the hope dies quickly when none of those are from the one person she wants to hear from.

Sighing, Cristina thinks that it's a shame when promises break like this.

 

* * *

 

Eventually Cristina gets tired of seeing her name on the board.

It's pointless because she can't call Emma to share it. It's pointless because there is no satisfaction left, it becomes repetitive, it becomes boring, it becomes expected. Not even seeing Zara’s angry face feels fun anymore.

Cristina starts to feel like college is gonna last forever, and she's only been there for a couple months.

She walks the hallway and looks down at her phone, waiting for a notification she knows it's not gonna be there.

It's so stupid. When had Cristina ever felt afraid of talking to her best friend?

But distance brings many things into perspective.

Mainly, Cristina can't stop thinking about a party at the end of senior year, she can't stop thinking about rooftops and twin beds and small storage rooms.

God. What had they done?

Maybe that's why Emma wasn't texting or calling. Maybe that's why Emma didn't want to talk to her anymore. Maybe she realized that Cristina is—

Cristina walks and pretends the thought isn't strong and dark enough to bring her to her knees.

Panic surges within her. She can't lose Emma. Not to this, not to—

“Uh—excuse me?”

“What?” Cristina snaps, turning sharply to whoever spoke.

“Woah there.” It's a guy. Tall and tan with dark hair and dark eyes. And handsome. Very handsome.

Cristina sighs. “Sorry, you scared me.”

It's not the truth but it's better than saying she'd been too consumed by thoughts of Emma.

The guy smiles and Cristina doesn't know when was the last time she felt like this.

Flustered.

“Didn't meant to, but you're kinda standing in front of the door.”

Cristina finally realizes her anger and frustration led her to just stand there, motionless and blocking the way to a classroom.

“Sorry,” she says, still flustered by kind eyes and a beautiful smile. She knows she should move, get away, she knows this guy has to get to class but—Cristina lingers, waiting for something.

She doesn't know what.

“You look familiar,” the guy says, leaning against the wall. Cristina frowns, not sure if this is what she expected.

“I do?”

“Yeah like—Oh!” He suddenly stands straight, and his smile is back, and Cristina blushes. “You're Cristina, right? I thought I'd seen you somewhere. I'm in your comparative politics class.”

“Oh,” Cristina says, taking a deep breath. “Oh. Really?”

“I'm Diego,” he says, extending his hand and Cristina hesitates only a second, she has a feeling she's forgetting something important. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you,” she says.

Diego flashes another smile and nods to the door. “I have to get going, but I'll see you soon.”

And finally, as if compelled by an invisible force, Cristina steps away and smiles. “Sure.”

For a second they stare at each other and there's something on Diego’s eyes that Cristina recognizes from somewhere.

She feels the ghost of something stir on her chest. She doesn't know what it is.

When Diego turns to leave, Cristina is left standing alone on the hallway and she wonders if the buzz on her skin is a good sign or not.

She can't remember.

 

* * *

 

Cristina goes on a date with Diego a week after that. And then she goes on a second and third date with him.

It's nice. Diego is charming and easygoing and intelligent. He has a kind heart and is passionate. As they speak and speak Cristina feels herself more and more drawn to him.

It really is nice.

Cristina can't remember the last time her heart beat this way for someone who wasn't Emma. It's nice. It's unexpected. It's—moving on.

Diego calls her his girlfriend by accident while talking to his brother on the phone and immediately looks at her, as if ready to correct himself, but Cristina shakes her head.

Something slips from her mind and she doesn't know what it is but she doesn't care.

“Girlfriend sounds nice,” she says and when he hangs up just to kiss her Cristina can taste healing on his lips.

 

* * *

 

 

Cristina sees Diego almost every day and she lets him hold her hand and take her to nice places. They have picnics and dinner dates and they go to museums and libraries.

And it's nice. Diego is thoughtful and caring and he looks at Cristina like she is everything right in this world.

It's nice.

Yet—

Yet Cristina finds herself missing and longing when she shouldn't. She finds herself getting lost in memories of movie nights and sleepovers and dancing among crowds of teenagers.

“That's not your life now,” she tells herself in the mirror one day, heart beating frantically, fingers trembling as if she could touch someone that wasn't there. “This is your life.”

A life of missing and longing. A life without Emma Carstairs.

Cristina never knew healing could be so painful.

 

* * *

 

 

It's been months and now Cristina thinks of an unanswered phone and outspoken things and stolen kisses and she doesn't stutter.

She doesn't ache anymore.

 

* * *

 

It's been months now and Emma thinks of an unanswered phone and outspoken things and stolen kisses and she feels the weight of it all.

She feels the longing may kill her.

 

* * *

 

“Why don't you just call her?”

Emma struggles to keep her phone pointed to her face while she balances breakfast and tea on another hand. “Because,” she says, staring at Julian's slightly pixelated face, “she hasn't called _me.”_

He rolls his eyes. “Emma, are you five? Is that seriously your best excuse?”

“Yeah.”

“Listen,” Julian says, “Cristina is busier than any of us right now. If _I_ didn't call her every once in a while I would never speak to her.”

Emma nearly drops the tea. “You've talked to Cristina?”

“Of course I have, I talk to her all the time.”

“Oh.”

Emma takes a deep breath and she feels a lot like she's been wounded, but she doesn't know by what.

“Call your best friend, stop being stupid.”

Emma finally settles herself on a small table. “I'm calling my best friend right now.”

“Not me,” Julian says, rolling his eyes again. “You're both so stubborn, it's ridiculous.”

“Cristina talks to _you._ Maybe she just doesn't want to talk to _me_.”

Julian sighs. “Remember when we were kids and you had the chickenpox? How you missed school for days?”

Emma doesn't like where this is going. She stays silent but can ready tell what Julian is gonna say next.

“Cristina was insufferable.” He laughs. “Sulking everyday, sneaking out of class, getting mad at your mom for not letting her see you.”

“I don't see your point, Julian.”

“I remember when you got better, when we could go to your house. I remember how happy you both were, I remember seeing Cristina smile for the first time in days. How can you think Cristina _doesn't_ want to talk to you? That's crazy, Emma.”

“That's not—”

“Crazy,” he says again, more forcefully. “Just call her, or are you scared?”

Emma hates how much that little question gets to her.

 

* * *

 

“Hey,” Cristina whispers to her phone. It's four in the afternoon and she's walking to her dorms and her hands tremble and her heart beats louder than usual.

“Hey,” Emma whispers back.

And suddenly, they're both hit with something that crashes into them like a boulder rolling down a mountain. Full speed, full strength. Inevitable.

They're not moving on.

“I've missed you,” Emma says, the confession ripping through her from the inside. She can't remember when those words were easy to say to Cristina.

“I've missed you too.” Cristina doesn't feel the words tear her open but she does feel the weight of them like something settling on her shoulders. She can't remember when those words felt like release whenever she told them to Emma.

Cristina cries in the middle of campus while clutching her phone like it's somehow her only lifeline and, considering it's the only thing that lets her hear Emma's voice, she thinks it may as well be.

Emma sits on the floor of her room and hugs her knees against her chest, trembling. She cries, too, silently, and she isn't sure why.

They don't say much, except—

“I'm sorry.”

And—

“I love you.”

They mean it more than the other knows.

 

* * *

 

 

“His name is Diego,” Cristina says. “I met him a few months ago.”

Emma holds her breath and tenses. “That's uh—great, Tina.”

They stare at each other through the screen and Cristina is so still Emma thinks her laptop froze.

“We're dating, Emma,” she says.

Emma’s stomach churns and she feels like she's back on fifth grade watching Cristina blush and clutch a pink heart of paper mache.

“Tell me about him,” Emma says because that's what best friends do, and her smile it's forced but she hopes that Cristina doesn't notice.

She doesn't.

“He's amazing, I met him when—”

Emma forces herself to listen but she can't fight the jealousy that rises within her like poison. Cristina’s smile is radiant and her eyes sparkle and she speaks with passion and tenderness and Emma knows, suddenly, that Cristina is never going to speak about her like that.

The words best friend have never sounded so bitter.

 

* * *

 

 

“You're doing it again,” Emily says, leveling Emma with a sharp look.

“Doing what?”

“ _That.”_ She gestures vaguely. “Sulking, I don't know. You're grumpy.”

“I'm not—”

“Yeah yeah, you're not grumpy. Whatever you say, Emma. What's wrong with you this time? Your girlfriend stopped talking to you again?”

Emma groans and lets her face drop against the table. Emily pats her on the shoulder, but Emma doesn't have the energy to correct her. Or maybe she just doesn't want to.

“Worse,” Emma says. “Now we talk all the time.”

Emily blinks. “Wow. Can't imagine how hard that must be for you.”

“Shut up.” Emma bats Emily's hand away and sits upright on her chair. “Cristina has a boyfriend now. All tall and attractive and handsome. He's awful.”

“Okay— I thought Cristina was just your friend though?”

“She is,” Emma says quickly. Perhaps too quickly. “She's my best friend. I just don't want to hear about her stupid boyfriend.”

“It sounds to me like someone is jealous.”

“I'm not,” Emma says. Then, more sternly: “I'm _not_ jealous.”

“Clearly.”

Emma sighs, and eventually she drops her face to the table again, unable to look at Emily and her knowing eyes. Why does it feel like Emily _knows?_

Why does it feel like the whole world knows?

Except Cristina.

“Well this clearly can't continue,” Emily says, huffing, and she stands up. “Let's go, Emma, you're in need of some serious fun.”

Emma gets ready to protest but she realizes she doesn't want to.

 

* * *

 

 

Emma stares blankly at the shifting letters on her phone screen.

 _I love you,_ the text reads.

She hits send and it's two am and she thinks of Cristina sleeping on someone else's bed.

She thinks of three words they whisper all the time, she thinks of how they come from a place that Cristina will never understand.

Cristina _needs_ to understand.

She starts typing another message.

 _I'm in love_ —

“Woah!” Emily shouts, taking Emma's phone from her hands. “You're _way_ too drunk for this, Emma.”

Emma sighs. She really isn't that drunk.

“Don't sigh, I'm doing you a favor. C'mon, party’s over here, Emma, no point in sitting all by yourself in the kitchen.”

Emma sighs again but lets Emily tug her away.

 

* * *

 

Emma comes back home to the sight of Tessa baking pancakes and the sound  of Jem softly playing his violin.

There is a lot of hugging and a lot of smiling and a lot of bright eyes and cheerful voices.

Emma remembers being young and thinking no one could take care of anything anymore, but now she breathes in and feels warm and she knows she’s at home.

 

* * *

 

Cristina comes back home to the sight of Emma sitting on the sidewalk in front of her house.

For a second she freezes, thinking back to so many years ago and almost seeing the image of two small girls sharing a single glass of lemonade on that same sidewalk.

Cristina feels it was a long time ago, but she also feels it was just yesterday when Emma walked into her life with nothing but mischievous eyes and a gap-toothed grin.

Simple.

It had been so simple then.

Emma looks up just as the car pulls over and her smile is so bright it threatens to outshine the sun. Cristina has to breathe out, and when she smiles back she feels as if something is finally falling into place inside of her.

Too long without seeing Emma. Colors seem to be brighter, now, or rather— No, not brighter. Just _right._

“Hey stranger,” Emma says happily as she throws her arms around Cristina and envelopes her in a hug that nearly overwhelms her.

Emma is here and Emma is happy and laughing and hugging her, and though it’s been only months Cristina feels it’s been years and lifetimes.

So Cristina hugs her back like it’s been years and lifetimes and not only months.

There is a sense of belonging, the feeling of coming home.

 

* * *

 

“You can't use your hands in soccer, Tavvy.” Emma laughs as he throws the ball back at her.

“I want to play volleyball like you!”

Emma grins. “Really?”

“Yeah!”

“Okay, let me show you.”

Cristina watches from the porch steps, eating a strawberry icepop and bumping shoulders with Dru on one side and Ty on the other. Livvy sits on a lawn chair not far, only looking up from her notebook to cheer for Tavvy at random intervals.

Emma crouches near Tavvy and goes through the basic motions of volleyball and Cristina smiles fondly, something she thought forgotten stirring on her chest. Cristina quickly pushes that aside; the time for that is over.

Emma is just her best friend.

Her ridiculously adorable and thoughtful best friend.

But that was it.

(Was it?)

Helen’s car pulls up on the driveway and there are plenty excited whispers that turn into laughter and yelling when Julian scrambles out of the passenger’s seat. Tavvy is the first one to rush to him, volleyball entirely forgotten, and Cristina gets shoved to the sides as Ty and Dru stand up in a heartbeat.

“Jules! You’re back!”

“Wow,” Emma says under her breath, coming to stand next to Cristina as they watch Julian hug and laugh with his siblings. “No one was _that_ excited to see me.”

Cristina laughs. “I was.”

“Yeah right. I bet you were terrified when you saw me again.”

Cristina thinks she was actually a _little_ terrified, but probably not for the reasons Emma thinks.

“You’re not gonna say hi to me?” Julian asks, carrying Tavvy on his arms. He’s just a tad too big to be carried anymore, but neither he nor Julian seem to care.

“Hi loser,” Emma says, grinning and clapping him on the back. “Did you get taller?”

“Did you get shorter?”

Emma sticks her tongue at him, which results in Tavvy sticking his tongue out at him as well.

“How’s DC?” Cristina asks him, and Julian struggles for a second to hold Tavvy and give her a hug at the same time.

“It’s great! How’s New York?”

_Lonely._

Cristina smiles. “It’s great, too.”

“You guys are so expressive, it’s making my heart melt,” Helen deadpans. “Anyways, Emma, it’s time for you to get your car because Julian here is gonna buy us all lunch.”

“He is?” Julian asks.

“Yeah, freshie, it’s time you put that part time job to good use. Let’s go.”

There are more excited cheers. “I want to go with Emma!” Dru says, “and I call shotgun!”

Emma laughs, then nudges Cristina on the side. “Seems you were beaten this time, Tina.”

Momentarily Cristina forgets where she is, she only sees Emma and the Blackthorns and she only hears their laughter and she wonders how is she going to survive spending more time away from all of this.

 

* * *

 

 

“I think we may be a bit too old for sleepovers anymore.”

Emma gasps. “Nonsense. You can never be too old for sleepovers.”

“Well we definitely outgrew my bed,” Cristina says, smiling.

Emma shuffles around and wraps an arm around Cristina’s torso, face hidden in the crook of her neck. Cristina shivers at Emma's warm breath against her skin, and once again her chest is flooded with familiar aches she should have forgotten already.

“Nah,” Emma mumbles, “I don't think so.”

If the fact that they fit together perfectly bothers Emma as much as it bothers Cristina she can't really tell.

“Tina, are you enjoying Christmas break?”

Cristina thinks of Emma being the first thing she sees when she gets home, she thinks of Emma smiling like it's been a long time and she thinks of Emma excitedly asking her to do everything together to make the most out of their time here.

She thinks of going to the park together and going go the beach together and she thinks of lazy mornings and smudging pancake syrup on Emma's nose.

“Yeah,” Cristina says, leaning more against Emma and pointedly not thinking about what happened the last time they were this close to each other. “I am.”

“Wait till you see my present.”

Cristina chuckles. “I love you, Emma.”

“I love you too.”

The words slip so easily Cristina almost thinks she hasn't forgotten anything at all.

But she has.

She's forgotten what it's like to be in love with Emma.

She _has_ to forget.

(She doesn't.)

 

* * *

 

 

It's Christmas and Emma wakes up next to Cristina, nearly choking with the sudden need to kiss her

This is not how it's supposed to be.

She's supposed to be moving on.

(She's not.)

 

* * *

 

Cristina forgets to call Diego for the rest of the holidays.

 

* * *

 

It's New Year’s day and there are fireworks and cheering and when Emma looks at Cristina she thinks she's never seen anything so beautiful.

 

* * *

 

Cristina goes back to New York to her small dorm and her repetitive classes and her dates with Diego and she spends all her nights wishing she was somewhere else, in someone else's arms.

 

* * *

 

 

“How was your day?”

Cristina rolls to her stomach, tucking a pillow under her chin. She props her phone against the wall and grins at Emma's cute sleepy face.

“Boring,” Cristina says. “Better now.”

“Of course,” Emma mumbles, face half-hidden by the many pillows she sleeps with. “I'm enough to bring joy to your days.”

“You have no idea how true that is,” Cristina says in a brief moment of pure honesty. She's too tired to think. “How about your day?”

“I miss you,” Emma says, pouting. “It's so weird being back here without you.”

“I know.” Cristina sighs. She thinks that this distance is a knife and with each passing breath it cuts deeper and deeper into her skin.

“At least spring break is soon,” Emma says. “And we'll get to see each other for a few weeks. Then we have summer break, and that's gonna be the best, I bet you're already missing the beach.”

“You have no idea how much. This city is way too cold.”

“I'll take you to the sun,” Emma says. “Remember when I asked you to be astronauts?”

“The sun would kill us, Emma. You really suck at this.”

Emma laughs softly, tiredly, like she can't deal anymore with the weight of the late night. “I'd be an amazing astronaut.”

Cristina is about to say something when she notices Emma's eyes slowly closing, the phone slipping out of hand.

“I love you, Emma,” Cristina whispers, then she falls asleep too.

And it's the first time she doesn't spend the night wishing for things she should forget.

 

* * *

 

“Emma, wake up.”

Emma groans and pushes aside the hand that's nudging her on the shoulder. “Leave me alone.”

“You're gonna miss class,” Emily says, and though Emma has her eyes closed she can almost see Emily's frown. “You're already late, by the way.”

“I don't care.”

“I know you don't,” Emily says. “I've completed my main duty as roommate trying to wake you up. Key word: trying. Honestly, Emma, you shouldn't talk to your girlfriend until 3 am, that can't be healthy.”

Emma squeezes her blankets more tightly.

“Don't think I didn't hear you guys,” Emily keeps saying. “I don't think I've ever heard such a cute couple, it was simultaneously adorable and disgusting.”

“It was just Cristina,” Emma mumbles and she's too tired to think too much. The giddy joy of falling asleep with Cristina’s voice is still there, stopping her from thinking about anything else.

“I know,” Emily says. “Are you sure she's just your best friend?”

“No,” Emma says. “You know she's not.”

Emily sighs, but she doesn't say anything else.

Eventually she leaves and Emma stays in her bed and she falls asleep and dreams about Cristina holding her hand on the way to school.

 

* * *

 

“You seem distracted today.”

“Really?” Cristina asks, taking a sip of her coffee. “I don't feel distracted.”

Diego smiles, and it's a nice smile, fond and filled with a certain type of tenderness. He's sweet, and he cares about her, but Cristina doesn't know why that smile bothers her so much. She doesn't know why his hand on hers feels too warm and not the way it's supposed to feel.

“Of course you don't,” he says. “But you haven't been listening to a thing I said.”

“Sorry,” she says.

“It's fine, I know you have a lot on your mind.”

Cristina winces because that's the same thing Diego said when she forgot to call him on the holidays. Guilt rises up in her, and she thinks that this is unfair for the both of them.

“Diego, I'm—”

“If you're gonna apologize again, don't,” he says, still flashing the smile that had drawn Cristina in in the first place. “I don't need an apology. I just want to know—I mean, do you really want to be with me?”

“Yes,” Cristina answers without hesitating because she thinks being with Diego is better than going back to being on her own. Alone. “Of course I want to. I'll do better.”

Diego smiles and his eyes, for a second, sparkle with adoration and Cristina is nearly overwhelmed by her own guilt.

 

* * *

 

Cristina’s classes become more and more demanding and time consuming and it’s 7pm when she sees Emma’s name flash on her phone and her hand trembles only slightly when she taps “decline call.”

 

* * *

 

Emma feels them slipping again and she doesn’t know why.

 

* * *

 

Emma talks to Jem every Monday night and she never knows what to answer when he asks how Cristina is doing.

 

* * *

 

When Cristina talks to Julian on the phone she pretends she doesn’t hear the derisive tone on his voice when he asks about Diego.

She pretends she doesn’t hear the words Julian tries to say over and over. She thinks Julian has been trying to tell her something ever since the first grade but she doesn’t know what it is.

 

* * *

 

Spring break comes faster than expected and before Cristina knows it she’s standing in front of Emma again and they’re hugging and Emma is laughing like nothing is wrong.

And nothing should be wrong.

Cristina laughs too and lets Emma spin her around like nothing is wrong.

(Because nothing should be wrong)

“Thanks for picking me up,” Cristina says.

Emma grins as she loads Cristina’s bags into the truck of her car. “Of course, Tina. Everyone is super excited to see you, c’mon.”

“Emma,” Cristina says, taking Emma’s wrist. “I’m sorry. I feel like I haven’t been—there, in the past months.”

“It’s okay Tina,” Emma says, still grinning and it’s so genuine and perfectly _Emma_ that Cristina is left staring for longer than necessary. “I know you’re busy. You can tell me _all_ about it on the way home, I heard from Cameron that Zara is about to drop out?”

Cristina laughs. “Yeah, you won’t _believe—”_

They talk and laugh all the way home and nothing is wrong.

 

* * *

 

A week with Cristina is the worst thing that could happen to Emma, because at the end of spring break they both have to go their separate ways again and Emma thinks it was easier when she didn’t have the memories of Cristina’s arms around her so fresh in her mind.

Every night they speak on the phone and they fall asleep to the sound of each other’s voice.

 

* * *

 

What are you gonna do on summer break?” Diego asks one day as they lie next to each other on the bed of his dorm.

Cristina blinks, slowly waking herself up. Diego lazily plays with her hair and Cristina thinks she feels a manner of peace settling in her bones.

“Mhm, sleep,” she says. “Sleep _so_ much. Not worry about grades, or finals, or essays or—”

“I get it,” Diego laughs. “I mean what are you _really_ going to do? What are you most excited about?”

“Seeing Emma,” Cristina blurts out and Diego laughs again.

“Yeah, I know, you’ve only mentioned seeing her like a hundred times.”

Cristina blushes and turns her head to the side so Diego doesn’t see it. “Yeah well, she’s my best friend.”

“I can’t believe you’ve known her for— what? Ten years?”

“Thirteen.”

“Wow. There’s no one I’ve known for that long that isn’t part of my family.”

“Emma and I always did everything together.” Cristina sighs and she goes back to when times were simpler and she and Emma shared lemonades on sidewalks and held hands to school and got lost in the woods for no reason at all. “I guess it _is_ kind of amazing.”

“Yeah,” Diego says. “It is. My only friend like that is my brother Jaime—though Emma must be kind of like your sister, right?”

“No,” Cristina says quickly. Perhaps too quickly. “Emma’s never felt like a sister, just—my best friend.”

“I can’t wait to meet her one day,” he says softly, wrapping his arms around Cristina and tucking his head on her neck.

“What are _you_ going to do on summer?”

Diego smiles and talks and Cristina listens with half an ear. She wonders when the mere mention of Emma’s name is going to stop her from feeling like this.

Like there isn’t anything else in the world but her feelings for her.

She shoves them aside and decides that this is the time where she will start to forget them.

 

* * *

 

"You look like a mess,” Emily whispers softly as she slides in the desk next to Emma. “Are you okay?”

Emma is so tired she can barely keep her eyes open. “Hangover.”

“Figures.” Emily leaves a water bottle and two pills on Emma’s desk. “You didn’t come to the dorms last night.”

“I didn’t.”

“Are  you sure you’re okay, Emma?”

Emma thinks of phone calls with Cristina where she speaks excitedly about her boyfriend who is apparently perfect and the best guy in the world. She feels sick, and not because of the pounding headache or the weight of her body or the neverending nausea. She feels sick because she’s jealous and she shouldn’t be.

“I’m fine,” Emma says. She takes Emily’s pills and doesn’t say a thing for the rest of the lecture.

 

* * *

 

It’s the summer before sophomore year and Emma takes Cristina to the beach for what feels like the billionth time since they’ve known each other.

The unspoken things between them stay unspoken even as Emma silently reaches for Cristina’s hand.

The sound of the waves used to be comforting but now they just sound like a whisper of the lies they tell each other.

 

* * *

 

Emma puts her hands on her hips and looks over at the apartment she just finished helping to decorate. “I still can't believe you and Aline are moving together.”

“I can,” Helen says.  “We've been together for almost ten years, it's about time.”

“Yeah I know.” Emma chuckles. “That's what's so crazy to me, you two survived high school together, then a long distance relationship, then you jumping between here and there until she finished Law School, and now you’re moving back; that’s an insane amount of effort.”

“Aline hates Massachusetts, no way she would've stayed there.”

“Yes, Helen, I'm sure your girlfriend is moving back home _only_ because she hated Massachusetts.”

“Very funny.”

“You two have survived a lot, that’s all I’m saying.”

Cristina, who has been sitting on the couch trying to arrange the perfect flower bouquet—because only Cristina would ever casually pick up skills like bouquet arrangements—looks up. “Well, I think sometimes some people are perfect for each other. Don’t you think that has to be true?”

Emma smiles and plops down on the couch next to her. “You’re such a romantic.”

Cristina shrugs. “That’s what _I_ think. What do you think?”

There is a moment of silence as they stare at each other, and Helen raises an eyebrow but neither of them notice. She hoped they would have figured it out by now.

“You know what?” Emma asks and her voice is low and her eyes are locked with Cristina’s and suddenly Helen feels like she’s an intruder in her own house. “I think I agree with you, Tina.”

Helen watches Cristina smile and she wonders how can the two of them be so blind.

 

* * *

 

“Diego’s been acting weird,” Cristina says over the phone one day and Emma rolls her eyes only because she knows Cristina won’t be able to see her.

“How weird?” She asks because that’s what best friends do but in reality she’s tired of hearing about Perfect Diego and his incredible relationship with Cristina.

“Just weird,” Cristina says. “I feel he’s keeping a secret from me, but I don’t know what. You think he’s going to break up with me?”

“He’d have to be blind,” Emma says and she shoves aside the expectation rising within her chest. “Just talk to him, Tina. If he breaks up with you, so what?”

“I don’t want him to break up with me,” says Cristina.

Emma closes her eyes, she can hear what Cristina is going to say next because she knows her oh so well.

“I love him, Emma.”

Sometimes Emma thinks knowing Cristina so well is her biggest curse.

“I know, Tina,” she says. “I know you do.”

 

* * *

 

“Cristina, I need to talk to you about something.”

Cristina swallows and there is something like relief inside of her when Diego sits in front of her. “What?”

“So—” He starts nervously, then smiles slightly. “I was thinking, since this is gonna be our last year here and you’ve got your internship and—you know, we’ll have to leave campus in a year, so I—why don’t we leave it now?”

Cristina blinks and tilts her head and she pretends she doesn’t understand. But she does understand.

The relief disappears and is replaced by a worry that settles on the back of her throat. She pretends it’s not there.

“What are you asking?”

“Move in with me,” he says in a breath. “Please? We could get a small apartment not too far away, and—”

It’s been years and Cristina is still trying to forget something, she thinks she’s almost there.

She’s almost there because when Emma calls she feels glad but not nervous, when Emma laughs she feels warm but not giddy, and when she thinks of kissing Emma she doesn’t feel like the memory is going to swallow her whole.

She tries to remember what it was like to have an ache on her chest and she finds that she can’t.

She thinks that loving Diego is so much easier compared to loving Emma, no aching and no fire and no overwhelming feeling of being consumed by simple things like brief touches and stolen kisses.

“Cristina?” Diego asks tentatively. “Say something, please.”

Cristina thinks of Emma and the buzz on her skin is barely there now, just a whisper on the corner of her mind. Nothing that resembles the all consuming ache that used to be so deeply ingrained in her heart it was like roots had taken hold in her insides.

Diego looks at her, expectant and nervous and Cristina smiles, brushing hair out of his forehead and leaning to give him a kiss. He gasps as if he’s surprised and Cristina laughs into his mouth and she thinks that this is nice.

(There is something she wants to forget.)

“I’ll move in with you,” she says. “Let’s do it.”

“What? Really?”

“Yes.” She pauses. “I love you, I want to do this.”

Diego freezes before his face breaks down in the biggest smile Cristina has ever seen from him and she thinks the fluttering feeling on her chest is nice.

(Deep down she knows it’s not as nice as it’s supposed to be but she ignores that knowledge and continues on pretending she’s forgotten.)

 

* * *

 

“Cristina is moving in with Diego,” Julian says, “and you have _nothing_ to say about it?”

Emma shrugs, leaning over her desk to get a better picture of Julian’s face on her laptop screen. “Yeah. What am I supposed to say?”

He runs a hand through his hair and she catches a glimpse of yellow paint on his fingers and smiles. It’s comforting to know Jules is still Jules, despite time and distance. “I don't know, Emma, I thought you wouldn’t like it.”

“Why wouldn't I like it? Cristina’s clearly in love with him, and I haven’t got a reason to believe he’s bad for her, so— I approve, I guess.”

Her stomach churns and she knows she’s lying but she pretends Julian can’t tell. She knows he can tell. She knows he’s aware of things he shouldn’t be aware of (things _no one_ should ever be aware of) but it’s so much easier to pretend her feelings for Cristina are just hers and no one knows anything about them.

“Seriously? You’re gonna keep playing dumb with me, Emma?”

Emma swallows. “Jules, leave it alone.”

He frowns. “Fine, it’s none of my business anyways.”

“Don’t get mad.”

“I’m not mad,” he says. “Maybe a little frustrated, but that is probably nothing compared to what _you’re_ feeling.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Julian shakes his head. “Nothing. We’ll talk later, okay? I have some things to do.”

Emma is not even halfway through goodbye when he hangs up the Skype call.

She feels empty and lonely and she thinks that it’s probably her fault.

 

* * *

 

Emma is so tired of feeling lonely.

“Do something about this,” Emily says, vaguely gesturing towards Emma’s side of the room. “I know I have no say in your half of the dorm, but God Emma, you're making it hard for me to get laid, people think I live in a dumpster.”

Emma sighs.

She's so tired of feeling lonely.

 

* * *

 

Emma knocks on the door of Cristina’s new apartment and she feels like she’s going to be sick.

The hollowness on her soul just grows with each second she’s standing there.

 

* * *

 

“Yes?”

“Oh, you’ve _got_ to be kidding me,” Emma blurts out the moment she sees Diego for the first time. “I thought she was exaggerating when she said you were incredibly handsome.”

“Uh— excuse me?”

There is a loud shriek coming behind Diego and suddenly he gets shoved to the side as Cristina throws herself into Emma’s arms. “What are you _doing_ here? _Dios mío!”_

Emma laughs and wraps her arms around Cristina’s waist and she thinks the feeling of their bodies pressed together may be the only thing in the world that makes sense.

Cristina’s presence hits her with more strength than should be possible, and Emma nearly falters on her feet as she tightens her grip around her best friend.

(Cristina may be everything in the world, but she is definitely _not_ Emma’s best friend.)

“Ah,” Diego says. Emma is amazed at how a simple syllable can shatter her illusion so fast. “So you must be Emma!”

She didn’t even remember he was there.

“Yeah!” Cristina says excitedly. “Emma, this is Diego, Diego, this is Emma.”

“The famous best friend,” he says with a grin, extending his hand. Emma reluctantly lets go of Cristina just to shake it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He’s well-mannered, something that Cristina clearly finds endearing. Emma purses her lip but has to remind herself why she’s there in the first place. “Yeah, same here. I’ve heard quite literally _everything_ about you.”

“Uhh— everything?”

“Yep,” Cristina says. “Best friends tell each other everything, duh.”

(That's one of the biggest lies she's told.)

Emma clenches her fists but keeps her smile and her voice steady. “Are you gonna invite me in or what?”

“Yeah, absolutely!” Cristina beams. “We spent a lot of time painting the walls and getting the furniture in place, it looks amazing!”

“Cristina did most of the work,” Diego says. “ _She_ made it look amazing.”

She looks at him like he’s the sun and Emma wants to scream because Cristina used to look at her like that.

No.

Cristina never looked at her like that.

Cristina never looked at her like anything other than a best friend.

“Let’s go! Then we can show you around New York!”

Emma smiles as genuinely as she can and is not much but it’s what she can manage. It’s gonna be a long weekend, she thinks, but somehow being with Cristina (even like this) is always worth it.

 

* * *

 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Cristina mumbles into the crook of Emma’s neck. They lie tangled together in the small guest room. According to Cristina and Diego the only reason they got an apartment with a spare room was so Emma and Jaime could come over whenever they wanted. “I’ve missed you like you don’t have any idea.”

“I know,” Emma says. “How can you _not_ miss me?”

Cristina laughs and the sound of it vibrates through Emma and she feels at peace for the first time since she hugged Cristina at the start of the day.

It seems her peace always begins and ends with Cristina.

“I’m serious,” Cristina says. “When are you leaving?”

“Sunday afternoon. So we have all Saturday for you to keep showing me around.”

Cristina grins against Emma’s skin and kisses her cheek, shuffling even closer to her. Emma holds her breath and reminds herself that this doesn’t mean anything. Friends are like this all the time. She reminds herself that Diego, Cristina’s _boyfriend_ , is sleeping on the next room.

In the end of the day Cristina is going to get out of bed and go to sleep next to him. She’s gonna kiss him and hug him through the night and when she wakes up at two am for no reason at all his face is the one she’s going to see. His face is the one she _wants_ to see upon waking up.

Diego’s. Not Emma’s.

“I love you idiot,” Cristina says. “I love you a lot, you know that right?”

Emma closes her eyes and tries not to think of other cramped dark rooms. “I know, Tina, I love you too.”

They both mean it more than the other knows.

 

* * *

 

Emma wakes up in the middle of the night and Cristina is still next to her.

She doesn’t know how to react.

When she wakes up again in the morning she's alone and she thinks it was a dream.

 

* * *

 

“Emma?” Julian opens the door to his small studio and scratches at his messy hair. “What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were in New York.”

“I _was_ in New York,” she says and pushes past him so she can pace around. Julian’s flat is small and cozy and filled with canvas in various stages of completion. “I changed my plane from LA to here, because I need to talk to you.”

“We have phones you know,” Julian says. “You could’ve—”

“Julian,” she says seriously. “I have a problem. A big problem.”

His face goes from sleepy to serious in a heartbeat, and Emma takes a deep breath because she knows how this must seem. “What is it?”

“I’m in love with Cristina.” She releases air in a big sigh and almost feels dizzy in the process.

It’s this the first time she says it out loud?

It’s this the first time she ever admits it to someone?

Emma has known for years, and yet only now does it feel _real_. The strength of her truth and the strength of her feelings break her open and build her anew at the same time, and all over her are the fingerprints Cristina left on her skin.

Fingerprints that should not be there.

Emma closes her eyes and breathes in and she feels lighter, suddenly, but heavier at the same time, weighted down by an anchor of longing and wanting and waiting.

She loves Cristina.

“I'm in love with her,” Emma whispers. “Julian… I'm in love with my best friend.’

Julian’s face is blank. “Wow. No kidding.”

“Julian!” Emma groans. “I’m serious.”

Can he not _see_ the impact this has on Emma? Can he not _see_ how lately everything in her life revolves around this one girl thousands of miles away?

(He can see. He just can't understand why it has to be like this.)

“Emma,” he says pointedly. “I _know_ you’re serious. God, I _know_ you’re in love with Cristina, I’ve known it since you jumped off a damn roof just to talk to her.”

Emma rubs her eyes. Of course Julian knows. It’s always been obvious, and yet—yet Emma is shocked. Shocked someone could _know_ about the weight on her shoulders, the pressure on her chest. Shocked that someone could _know_ of the way Cristina’s smile makes her days brighter.

Part of Emma’s whole world always revolved on keeping these feelings secret. Keeping them hidden, close to her chest like the treasure they are, away from prying hands and knowing eyes. Her feelings for Cristina are the most sacred thing she has, how could someone _know_ what they were like?

“Why is this a problem _now_?”

Emma snaps back to reality. “Because Cristina is in love with Diego. Like, she _really_ loves him, Jules, the way she looks at him—”

Julian rolls his eyes.

“What?”

“Emma. I don’t know how she looks at him, but I can guarantee is not even close to the way she looks at you.”

“Don’t be silly,” Emma says. “Cristina is not—”

Julian grabs her by both shoulders. “Emma, for God’s sake. I’ve never seen two people more in love in my life _._ Cristina absolutely adores you, and _not_ as a friend. _”_

“That’s not true, that can’t—” Emma blinks, taking a deep breath again. “Jules, tell me you’re lying.”

“I would never lie about this,” he says. “I could never.”

“But she’s with Diego.”

Julian shakes his head. “So what? Diego is not you.”

Emma closes her eyes and trembles, and she lets Julian hug her. He smells of clove cigarettes and oil paints, familiar, like home, Emma clings to him as she tries to come to terms with the biggest realization of her life.

There is a chance Cristina may love her back.

 

* * *

 

“So what do I do?”

Julian looks away from the stove for only a second before shrugging. He has a kitchen towel slung across one shoulder and it has a pattern of smiley kitties. It makes Emma smile but it doesn't make her feel better.

“You tell her.”

“While she's with Diego?”

“Yeah.”

“I can't do that! It's just gonna confuse her.”

“It shouldn't,” Julian says. “She can just break up with him.”

“They _just_ moved together.”

“So?”

“Julian, you're not being very helpful.”

He shrugs again. “I'm not very good at love, but I do know one thing about it: we tend to make it more complicated than what it actually is.”

“But this _is_ complicated,” Emma says. “I can't just tell her to drop her boyfriend for _me._ What if she isn't even in love with me? What if you made a mistake?”

“Emma,” he says sternly, then turns off the stove and turns around. “Are you serious?”

“Don't older-brother me.”

“You need to be older-brothered right now.”

“That's not a word, stop inventing words.”

“I'm in art school, Emma, I can get away with it. I think Ty would call it a neologism.”

“Jules—”

“I'm not sidetracking,” he says, then sighs. “Look, Emma, you can ask me or you can ask literally _any_ other person that's spend two seconds with you and Cristina. They're all going to say the same.”

“Still.” Emma leans back on her chair and crosses her arms. “I don't think I want her to leave Diego for me, that's kind of a dick move.”

“If you had only one chance to be with the person you love the most,” Julian says softly, “wouldn't you take it? Wouldn't you leave anyone just to be with that person? The one you're meant to be with?”

She bites her lip. “You think Cristina and I are meant to be?”

He nods. “If not then I will stop believing in love.”

“I didn't even know you believed in love in the first place.”

He throws the kitten towel at her. “Don't insult the man making you dinner. Especially when he's right.”

“I don't know, Jules—”

“Look, if I were Cristina, I would like to know how you feel about me. I would like to know the one I'm in love with is in love with me too.”

“You're not Cristina,” Emma says. “Unfortunately for you, of course, because she's _amazing._ We all wish we were her.”

“You're purposely changing the subject.”

“I would _never.”_

“Emma.”

“This is weird, okay?” she finally says. “I've spent most of my life in love with her, and I've always kept it a secret.”

“Uh, I wouldn't say you've kept it a secret.”

“My point is,” she says, frowning, “talking about it so openly is weird. Give me some time, please, I need to process all this.”

“You can have as much time as you want,” Julian says. “Just, well, you were the one coming to _my_ house looking like your life was falling apart.”

“It kinda is,” Emma whispers, looking down at the small wooden table. “I think it kinda is, Jules.”

 

* * *

 

After dropping Emma at the airport Cristina spends the rest of her Sunday thinking about her.

“Is that new?” Diego asks as she slips under the sheets next to him.

Cristina looks down at her red pajama shirt that smells like chocolates and midnight conversations on dark rooms. “It's Emma’s, she left it here.”

“Oh okay,” Diego says and kisses her temple. “Good night preciosa.”

Cristina hums an answer and runs her fingers through the familiar material of the shirt.

She forgets what true love feels like.

 

* * *

 

“You didn't have to do this, you know,” Emma says anxiously, shifting on her bed and fumbling with the edges of the sheets.

Cristina smiles. Oh that sweet smile. Emma feels her chest tighten with longing.

It's so obvious to her. She used to wonder how it was possible everyone _knew_ but Cristina. Now Emma wonders how is it possible _Cristina_ doesn't know.

“You think I'm gonna miss your _graduation?”_ Cristina laughs. “You're insane.”

“You'll have to fly back to New York in two days, Tina,” Emma says. “Seriously, this is crazy.”

“Maybe.” Cristina shrugs, then takes Emma's hand to make her sit in front of the vanity mirror. “But what can I say? I'd do crazy things for you. Now, stay still.”

Cristina stands between Emma's legs and leans over her to apply mascara and Emma's throat catches because she can remember so vividly what it was like to have Cristina this close to her, lips against hers, hands on her hips and—

Emma nearly gasps at how intense the urge to kiss Cristina is. And she nearly sobs at how intense the knowledge that she _can't_ kiss her is.

“Are you alright?” Cristina asks.

“Yeah.”

“Are you nervous?”

“Nah.”

“Emma.”

“Maybe a bit.”

Cristina smiles. “You're gonna do great.” She takes Emma’s chin and lifts up her face so she can take a better look at her. “I'll be cheering for you.”

Emma laughs, remembering locker rooms and fear and rooftops. “You're a cheerleader, isn't that what you do?”

Cristina’s smile really is the most lovely thing Emma will ever see in her life. “I'll be cheering only for you.”

“Ah Tina,” Emma chuckles. “What would I do without you?”

“You'd be lost,” Cristina says. “Close your eyes.”

Emma does. They spend several minutes in silence, agonizing minutes where all Emma can think about is Cristina’s fingertips on her jaw and Cristina’s breathing against her cheeks.

“Okay,” Cristina finally says. “Just one more thing—”

By the end of it Emma's fingers twitch and she wants to run away. “I can do my own lipstick.”

“Hush.”

Emma laughs nervously and takes the damn thing from Cristina’s hand. “I'm serious, you still have to get ready.”

Cristina blinks and freezes like she's been hit and Emma's stomach drops.

She thinks about Cristina’s pained expression for the rest of the day but somehow she thinks it was the right thing to do.

Moving on has never felt more terrible.

 

* * *

 

Emma gets her name called and she walks on stage and somehow, out of the hundreds of people in the audience, she finds Cristina sitting between Tessa and Julian, and smiling like there isn't a better thing in the world.

Emma forces herself to look away and smiles as they give her a diploma that should make her happy but just makes her feel empty and hollow.

 

* * *

 

“Congratulations,” Cristina says in a tiny voice and Emma feels her world is spinning in the wrong direction.

She knows something has shifted now, she knows she hurt Cristina, she knows she knows she knows.

“Thanks,” Emma says and she knows she should say sorry but instead just hugs Cristina and hopes it will be enough.

The hug is too short and it's not enough.

 

* * *

 

Emma gets tons of “congratulations” that day but none feels as important as Cristina’s.

 

* * *

 

“Well, we did it,” Emily says with a dopey grin. Her square cap is nearly falling from her head and her robes are all rumpled and messy, much like Emily herself.

Emma hums under her breath.

“Emma? You okay there?”

“Uh. Yeah.”

The celebration is still happening on the expanse of the massive football field but Emma lost track of her guests some time ago.

“Oh no,” Emily says. “Not _today_ , Emma. What happened? Why are you grumpy on our _graduation_ day?”

Emma smiles sadly. “You've been a great roommate, Emily, I'm glad we never moved out of campus.”

“Well that'd be a waste, considering I live an hour away from here.”

“Yeah,” Emma says softly. “Me too.”

Emily frowns. “Emma, what's wrong?”

“I don't know.”

“I'm gonna take a wild guess and say it's about Cristina.”

“I don't want to talk about it,” Emma says.

“Well, what do you want?”

Emma takes a deep breath and she thinks she can see Cristina standing with the Blackthorns somewhere. Emma would recognize that small crowd of brown and blonde hair anywhere.

They're far, too far for them to see her, and Emma sighs.

She looks at Emily and remembers what it was like then they first met, how she had thought Emily was pretty and funny and warm.

“Emma?”

“I think I know what I want.”

 

* * *

 

Emma presses Emily against the wall of their dorm, hard, and their kisses are all nipping teeth and ragged breaths and fumbling hands.

And Emily's hair is strawberry blonde and not black and her eyes are green and not brown and she answers to Emma's touches with eagerness and not with a soft, burning desire.

Emma thinks she doesn't care and she thinks this is what she needs.

(But it's not what she wants.)

“God,” Emily mumbles, one hand tangled in Emma's hair, legs wrapped around Emma's waist for support. “I never thought you'd— I mean I thought you and Cristi—”

Emma bites the soft skin of her neck to get her to shut up, and Emily groans and shudders.

“Fine, no talking, noted.”

 

* * *

 

Emma closes her eyes and bites on the back of her hand to stifle a moan and for the first time in forever she doesn't wish it was Cristina next to her and not someone else.

 

* * *

 

Helen is the first person Emma sees after leaving her dorm.

It's an accident, and Emma mentally curses. Helen is definitely top five on the list of people she does _not_ want to see right now.

“Where did you go?” Helen asks, eyebrows arched.

Emma doesn't know why Helen's stare makes her nervous. “Uh—restroom?”

Helen's eyes trail down the length of her, taking in her hastily-put clothes and her messy hair and swollen lips, and then she stops at a point in Emma's neck where Emma is _sure_ there's a hickey.

Helen makes a whistling noise under her breath. “Clearly.”

“Is uh—everyone ready to go home now?”

“Ah Emma,” Helen laughs. “You're not a little kid anymore, I'm not going to scold you for what you do in your free time.”

“I know.”

“Then stop acting awkward,” says Helen. “You can do whatever you want.”

“I know. But, you know, like— You're uh—”

“Your old childhood crush?” Helen laughs again, and Emma's eyes widen.

“I'm going to _kill_ Julian,” she mutters.

“Sweetie, Julian didn't have to say anything,” Helen says. “I thought it was cute, and flattering. And, well, you're clearly over it now. I'm glad for you and uh—what's their name?”

“Emily? Oh no, no, no. That wasn't anything like that. Just a one time thing. Yep. So you shouldn't be glad about anything.”

“I see.” Helen narrows her eyes for a second and then smiles. Without warning she brings Emma into a hug and Emma freezes. “I'm very proud of you, Emma, I _do_ have many things to be glad about.”

Emma closes her eyes and gets lost in the feeling of being held so uncomplicatedly by someone that cares about her in a way she doesn't have to wonder.

“Thank you, Helen.”

It's clear Helen wants to say something else, and Emma _knows_ exactly what she is going to say. Her eyes are the same as Julian's.

“Let's go,” Emma says quickly. “I heard Julian is paying for dinner.”

Though Helen laughs Emma can still see the unspoken words on her lips.

(As usual, it all stays unspoken.)

 

* * *

 

 

A few days later Emma is the one sitting in the audience next to Julian and Cristina is the one walking across the stage to receive a diploma.

The only difference is that Cristina wears a red and yellow sash around her neck and it says _valedictorian_ and all the teachers—and most students—look at her like no one has ever been more worthy of such sash.

Emma herself thinks she must be the one with the wider eyes. She's never been more excited and joyful and proud.

She listens to Cristina’s speech with a kind of awe and for a moment she can't believe that's her best friend.

Everyone cheers for her.

And Emma understands perfectly why someone like Cristina would never be in love with her.

 

* * *

 

Emma watches Cristina run off the stage and kiss Diego and she understands.

Julian is wrong. Everyone is wrong.

Cristina is never going to kiss her like that. Cristina is never going to feel that way about her.

 

* * *

 

Cristina thinks Emma coming to her graduation may be the most amazing thing of it all.

She doesn't know why Emma feels cold and distant the entire night.

 

* * *

 

“You sure you don't want to stay? Please? We still have an extra air mattress”

Emma smiles. “It's fine, Tina, between your parents and Diego’s family your apartment is as cramped as is gonna be. Julian and I can share a hotel room somewhere.”

“But—”

“No buts. I'll see you tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

Emma finds a hotel and she stays awake until four am just staring at the ceiling and wondering how could she be so blind.

 

* * *

 

“Emma,” Julian says in the middle of the night and Emma jolts.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“I was,” he says. “But you're thinking too loudly and it woke me up. What's going on?”

Emma breathes in deeply. She can't see Julian in the dark, and she can barely hear him over the small distance between their beds.

She thinks it's just her imagination, but her senses feel so much duller.

“Nothing.”

“You never told Cristina.”

“No,” Emma says. “I never did.”

“Why not?”

“She's in love with Diego.”

“Emma—”

“That’s just it, Julian,” Emma snaps, sitting up on her bed. “She has a boyfriend, and she's been with that boyfriend for _four_ years, she loves him and not me. There's nothing anyone can do about that.”

Julian is silent for a while, and the only thing filling the heavy stillness is the sound of Emma’s breaths.

Her eyelids drift close and she cries silently.

Neither of them say anything else.

 

* * *

 

“I thought,” Diego says softly, “you'd be happier. We just graduated, Tina.”

Cristina flinches. “Don't call me that.”

“What?” Diego blinks in surprise. “Oh I—Sorry, Emma calls you that all the time I guess it just stuck.”

Cristina rubs her eyes. “I'm going to get ready for bed, I'm exhausted.”

Diego smiles and it doesn't feel as nice as it should.

 

* * *

 

“Emma,” Cristina whispers into Emma's voicemail at three in the morning, “what happened? Why are you upset? Did I do something wrong? Please call me when you wake up, I can't sleep and I'm—I'm just worried, okay? I love you. I love you so much and—”

_You have reached this voicemail’s time limit._

Cristina presses her forehead against the cold wall on her bathroom and takes a deep breath.

Another once-in-a-lifetime kind of night that she can't enjoy because she's not with Emma.

Cristina wonders how many more she's gonna have to go through.

 

* * *

 

Emma shows up to Cristina’s apartment at ten in the morning with messy hair and bags under her eyes.

Cristina still hugs her like she's the most precious thing she's ever seen. And she is, but Emma doesn't know.

“What—”

“I can't talk here,” Emma says, glancing briefly over Cristina’s shoulder. “Do you want to grab some coffee?”

“You hate coffee.”

“You'll be the one drinking it, c'mon.”

“Okay,” Cristina says. “Give me one second.”

Emma stays outside as Cristina goes to inform everyone of where she's going.

“Huh? Emma está aquí tan temprano?” Emma hears Cristina’s mom ask. “Y si desayuna con nosotros?"

Emma's stomach churns at the idea of sitting at the same table as Diego and Cristina.

“We'll be back before you know it,” Cristina says sweetly and there are more voices speaking but Emma doesn't recognize them, and she's never been good at Spanish.

She waits and bites her lip and wonders if this is a good idea after all.

“Okay, ready,” Cristina finally says. “Let's go.”

 

* * *

 

“I got your voicemail.”

“I know,” Cristina says. “Or rather, I figured.”

They sit together on a small coffee shop just in front of Cristina’s apartment and those are the first words they speak in fifteen minutes.

“I'm sorry I basically ran away yesterday,” Emma says. “It's just—you know, you've finally graduated and your internship is already a job and you're—”

“What?” Cristina asks after more seconds of agonizing silence. “I'm what?”

 _The love of my life,_ Emma wants to say. _And you're not with me._

“Tina, you're gonna _live_ here now. In New York, and now we won't have college breaks to see each other.”

Cristina’s face is like a blank canvas, devoid of feelings or reactions, a potential masterpiece ready to be discovered.

As if a painter had splattered paint in a burst of inspiration, Cristina’s face breaks down in pure emotions that sprout like colors on a white surface.

She looks horrified.

“So—what, you think we won't be friends anymore because of that?”

(They're already not friends.)

“No,” Emma says. “Tina, please, we've known each other for more than fifteen years. I don't think it's possible for me to _not_ be friends with you anymore.”

“Then why did you disappear like that? And why were you acting so weird?”

“I know we're still going to be friends, but—I just needed some time to think about it, okay?”

It's such a feeble lie.

Emma ran away because she couldn't deal with all the love in Cristina’s eyes that wasn't directed at her.

Emma ran away because her best friend is in love with someone else, someone who isn't her.

Emma ran away because she couldn't bear the thought of having these feelings forever, and always knowing they would never be mutual.

Emma ran away because Cristina deserves a better best friend.

“Okay—you know things don't have to change, right? We can still talk all the time. We can be the same as we are.”

Emma remembers a time when Cristina said something similar, right before they went to college, and she remembers the cold feeling of unanswered texts and and empty voicemails and the loneliness of the first half of freshman year.

Maybe Emma is better off if they don't stay the same as they are.

 

* * *

 

Emma goes back home and gets ready to face her life without Cristina.

(She fails.)

 

* * *

 

Cristina tries calling Emma during her lunch break but it goes to voicemail and it breaks her heart enough not to leave a message.

 

* * *

 

“It's a small show,” says Julian, “it's not a big deal, you don't have to come.”

“It's your _first_ show,” Cristina says excitedly, and she hears Julian's nervous giggle on the other side of the line. “Of course I have to go! Don't worry, Diego has _so_ many airline miles, and I wouldn't miss it for the world.”

“Thanks,” Julian says and Cristina hears the relief on his voice. “That means a lot.”

If Cristina’s excitement is dampened just a bit by Emma's inexplicable distance then she doesn't say.

 

* * *

 

“This,” Emma says, hands on hips, “it's fantastic, Jules.”

They stand shoulder to shoulder in front of Julian's centerpiece, a massive canvas of black and white with two lonely figures in the center, silhouettes just barely distinctive by the edges spotted in light yellow paint.

Emma doesn't know why but the image tugs at her heart, and she thinks there's something familiar on the painting.

She can't tell what.

“Thank you,” Julian says, glancing at Emma sideways. “I'm glad you like it.”

It feels like he knows something she doesn't.

Emma is tired of Julian knowing more than she does.

“What is it?”

Julian purses his lips.

“Jules?”

“It's nothing,” he says, looking back at his own painting. “Just a random image.”

Emma believes him.

(She shouldn't.)

 

* * *

 

Julian thinks of a once-in-a-lifetime Friday night and how Emma and Cristina had walked together with arms linked and laughter on their lips and on their eyes, he thinks of lipstick stains that don't go away and glances that linger too long.

He titles his centerpiece “The Long Path to True Love.”

 

* * *

 

“Ladies,” Julian declares with the biggest smile Cristina has seen from him in years. “Thank you for coming, it means more than I can say. And I'm talking to Cristina because she had to take a flight of several hours and Emma just had to drive for ten minutes.”

“Hey,” Emma says. “ _Who_ was the one bringing all those paintings in the back of their car?”

“Mark, mostly,” Julian says. “You helped a little, I guess.”

Emma feigns shock and throws a bottle cap at him. “Just tell us if it was a success or not.”

“I wouldn't have gotten _this_ if it hadn't been a success.” Julian laughs and finally reveals what's inside the paper bags on the table. Two bottles of champagne.

“No way!” Emma laughs. “That's amazing.”

Though Julian's paintings are still on the walls the gallery is empty now, Helen and Mark had gone to take the younger Blackthorns home.

“A few years ago I never would've thought _Julian_ of all people would be the one buying champagne for us.”

“He’s grown a lot since high school,” Cristina says, chuckling.

“Yeah, yeah, you can thank me later.”

Julian pours the champagne and they toast for silly things like old times and travelling half the country to go to your best friend’s art show. The three of them laugh together and it does feel like old times.

And Cristina can’t understand why she ever decided to give this up.

 

* * *

 

Cristina goes back to her small apartment in New York but she doesn’t think she can call it home anymore.

 

* * *

 

“You’re sure you don’t want to come with me?” Diego asks.

Cristina stops folding her clothes for just a moment before she sighs. “I do want to go with you, but I also want to see my parents.”

“Yeah,” he says. “I get that.”

Sometimes it bothers Cristina how understanding he is. A part of her wishes Diego was selfish and hotheaded, just so it could be easier to explain to herself why she's so eager to leave.

But Diego is great. Too great.

And that is the problem.

 

* * *

 

Cristina comes back home for Christmas and all of her worries vanish when she sees Emma again.

She thinks it shouldn’t be this easy.

 

* * *

 

“Are you glad you’re back for Christmas?” Emma asks, shoulder occasionally bumping Cristina’s as they walk in an old, abandoned park that no one really goes to.

For them, however, is a place of memories and promises and even more unspoken things. 

Cristina thinks of rebellious mornings and skipping school and pretending to be warriors. She thinks of hushed promises as they lie on the dirt and she thinks of kissing Emma’s cheek and calling her beautiful.

Emma thinks of a painful night and skipping funerals and pretending to be invisible in the shadows. She thinks of Cristina’s soothing voice and she thinks of Cristina’s trembling arms wrapped around her.

“Yeah,” Cristina says. “You have no idea how much. I think life in New York may not be my thing after all.”

“You could always come back,” says Emma, allowing herself to hope even for a few seconds. “Your parents are here, and so are your friends.”

“Mmm, so is my best best friend.” Cristina laughs and reaches to hold Emma’s hand. Emma’s throat catches and she burns with hope. “I can’t say I haven’t thought about coming back, but I don’t think Diego is gonna want to leave his job.”

(Emma knows it’s stupid to hope.)

Cristina’s hand on hers suddenly feels like it weighs a hundred pounds.

“Well I’d certainly be much happier if you were back home,” Emma says. “I miss you like you don’t have any idea.”

“I miss you too,” Cristina says and her voice is low and careful and it seems almost as if she doesn’t want Emma to hear her. “You’d be one of my main reasons to come back, Emma. I didn’t think living without you near was going to be that hard.”

“Well we’ve been doing it for years, haven’t we?”

“Yeah. And somehow it doesn’t get easier.”

Emma swallows. There is so much she wants to say, so much she wants to tell Cristina. Emma wishes she could somehow show Cristina what her feelings for her looked like, she wishes she could put into words how much longing there is inside of her, how much love.

But words stay unspoken, and for the first time Emma wishes they would just talk about everything that’s going on between them and about everything that has been going on between them ever since they met.

She hears Julian’s voice saying she and Cristina are meant to be. 

But if that were true, why is everything so complicated?

Shouldn’t true love be easy?

Shouldn’t loving your best friend be simple?

Shouldn't best friends tell each other everything?

“I love you, Tina, and I’ll still love you no matter what you decide to do.” Emma wraps an arm around Cristina’s shoulders and smiles. It used to feel so natural and warm and familiar, being this close to Cristina used to feel like happiness and giddiness and love.

Now whenever she's close to Cristina she feels like she's crushed by the pressure of unspoken things and forgotten kisses and buried feelings.

And the longing. 

Cristina tilts her head to look at her and she smiles and her cheeks are rosy and her eyes crinkle at the edges and she's beautiful. And she stares at Emma like twenty years of mistaken feelings don't even matter.

Emma thinks that she's never going to want anything as much as she wants to kiss Cristina in that moment. 

(Cristina is tired of trying to forget what loving Emma feels like but she forces herself to remember that Emma is just her best friend.)

“I love you too, Emma.” 

They both mean it more than the other knows.

 

* * *

 

Tessa and Jem always greet Emma with hugs and kisses and a lot of happiness in their voices. Visiting their house for even a minute is always enough for Emma _to_ feel better for days and days.

“Things are lonely without you here,” Tessa says. “We miss you.”

“But,” Jem says, “we are happy you’re happy.”

They say that all the time, and all the time Emma answers with a smile and a silly joke that makes them laugh.

Having lunch with Jem and Tessa becomes an important part of her weeks, Emma doesn't think she could be half as functional as she is if she didn't see them every once in a while.

After all, they are two of the most important people in her life.

“Oh, Emma, before you go,” Tessa says. “I know you've been avoiding it on purpose, but you really should clean up the boxes you left in your room.”

Emma groans.

“I'm tired of having them around.”

“They're just in my room,” Emma says. “They're not ‘around.’”

Tessa frowns, and it looks more adorable than it looks reprimanding. “Take the boxes, please.”

“Fine, I guess I don't have anything better to do.”

The famous boxes are just things Emma couldn't take with her to her new apartment for lack of space on the trunk of her car. Lately, however, Emma has just been lazy.

Jem helps Emma load them into her car and she says goodbye with more hugs and kisses and happiness.

She doesn't really think about the boxes until she's back home, and even then she's too lazy to be bothered to rummage through them.

(She doesn't think much of it.)

(Perhaps she should.)

 

* * *

 

 

Cristina and Emma fall asleep on Emma's couch and Cristina wakes up in the middle of the night with Emma's arms around her.

She takes a deep breath and keeps trying to forget but more and more she's remembering what it's like to be consumed by a love like this.

She doesn't know what she's going to do.

But, perhaps, if the night doesn't end, she won't have to do anything other than stay like this, with Emma, forever.

 

* * *

 

“Truth or dare?”

Emma grins lazily and she knows she's had one too many beers. “You talking to me?”

Emily rolls her eyes. “Answer the damn question.”

Emma sits back up on the carpet and her knees brush against one of Emily's friend. They're all sitting in a circle and perhaps inviting a bunch of Emily's friends to her apartment wasn't a good idea but Emma is having fun and the alcohol is making her head hazy and there are a lot of pretty girls smiling at her.

And it's not what she wants but perhaps it's what she needs and it feels nice.

“Truth,” someone else answers for Emma and there's drunken giggles everywhere.

Emily doesn't even seem to notice it wasn't Emma who answered. “If you could be with any person in the world, who would you be with?”

There's a chorus of exclamations and laughter. Emma hears Chris Hemsworth’s name at least three times, and Rihanna is equally popular. Even Jessica, who is _married_ , laughs and says some random celebrity.

So, Emma really doesn't know why she feels the urge to mutter Cristina’s name in this absurd game, and before she can convince herself this is a bad idea she realizes she's already said it.

And now everyone is looking at her.

Emma shifts uncomfortably under their gazes until Jessica chimes in:

“Cristina Aguilera? Damn, she's _hot._ Can I change my answer?”

Emma breathes out as the girls laugh some more.

Later some fall asleep on the couch and some fall asleep on the carpet and Emma doesn't know how Emily ends up huddled next to her in her bed.

“Didn't know you were such a fan of Cristina Aguilera.”

“Shut up or I'll kick you out,” Emma mumbles, too hazy to think properly. All she knows is that Emily is tracing patterns on her arm and it feels nice.

“You wouldn't.”

“Try me.”

Emily chuckles. “You haven't told her?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“She's got a boyfriend,” Emma says. “A real nice one. They're in love.”

“For how long?”

“Six years.”

“Wow,” Emily says. “So what? Haven't you known her for like 50 years? That beats 6 by a _long_ run, so whoever that boyfriend is has no chance against you.”

“You're hilarious, Emily,” Emma says. “But you don't know Cristina, she just loves me as a friend.”

“Mmm… It must be awful for you, being so in love with someone who doesn't love you back—”

Emily stops caressing Emma's arm.

“Are you trying to tell me something?”

“Don't flatter yourself,” Emily laughs. “That one time at graduation was enough.”

“Enough? Wow, I don't think anyone's ever said that to me before.”

“I think we're better as friends,” Emily says idly. “We wouldn't do well in a relationship.”

“Why not?”

“Because you're in love with someone else, silly,” Emily laughs again.

And Emma laughs, too, because it's ridiculous.

It's ridiculous how much she's in love with Cristina.

“How drunk are you?” Emily asks.

“Not drunk enough. Why?”

“No reason.”

“You want to have sex again?”

Emily chuckles, then bumps Emma's arm. “I don't have sex with friends. Or, well, I guess you were the exception, but it was only one time.”

“I had sex with Cristina, once,” Emma says, compelled to overshare by the late night and the alcohol and the strange need of telling _someone._ No one but Cristina knows.

Emily is surprisingly still. “Really? How come you two _aren't_ together yet?”

“It's complicated.”

“Emma,” Emily says. “You're killing me. That's the most bullshit excuse in the world. Do you want me to break her boyfriend's legs? I did some years of taekwondo you know.”

“Yeah, when you were seven.”

“It's all muscle memory, I bet I could kick his ass.”

Emma yawns and wraps her arms around Emily, too tired and hazy to think too much about what she's doing. Emily smells nice, like chocolate and beer and easy things.

(Emma yearns for the smell of roses and complications.)

“You're great, Emily, but I don't think you can help me here.”

“Yeah I can,” Emily mumbles. “I have a simple solution here: tell her how you feel.”

“I'll think about it.”

Emma has a dream where she and Cristina go to the beach and they sit on the sand for hours without saying anything.

It's comfortable and familiar and quiet.

 

* * *

 

“Do you think Diego would like this?”

Julian shrugs, barely even seeing the shirt Cristina is holding. “I've talked to the guy only once, and it lasted two minutes. How would I know?”

“You're a guy,” Cristina says, rummaging through the racks of clothing. “You should know what other guys like.”

“Because men are so simple, right?”

She smiles. “Precisely. What's wrong with you? A few minutes ago you were fine and now you're all grumpy.”

“I thought you brought me here to buy Christmas presents for my siblings and Emma, not for Diego.”

“Well I didn't plan on getting a present for Diego right now, but I saw this and thought of him. What's the harm?”

“The harm is that we're wasting time.”

Cristina narrows her eyes. “Do you have a problem with Diego?”

“No.”

“Yeah, why would you have a problem with him in the first place?”

“My problem isn't with Diego,” Julian says calmly but coldly, busying his hands with clothes he isn't going to buy.

The people on the store walk around them, unaware of the tension forming.

“Then what _is_ your problem?”

Julian shakes his head and reminds himself this is not his place. At all. “Nothing.”

“Jules, please—”

“Forget I said anything,” he says. “And he would like that shirt, by the way.”

 

* * *

 

Emma thinks she has to tell Cristina _now_ or the unspoken words are going to keep pressing against the inside of her chest until she’s ripped open.

 

* * *

 

“Emma?” Julian asks, “are you okay?”

Emma is standing up from the couch with her heart racing and she ignores the concerned glances Julian sends her way.

For a second she stays still, taking in the image of Julian and his youngest brother huddled on the floor playing video games, but she isn’t really seeing them. She’s seeing something more, she’s seeing the moment she had been dreading since she was fourteen years old.

“I have to go,” she says.

“Emma?”

“Julian,” she breathes out. “I have to tell her.”

Julian freezes and slowly nods, looking as if he’d been struck with the most earth-shattering news in the world.

Emma herself feels like the magnitude of this _need_ may be enough to shatter the earth.

“Tell what to who?” Tavvy asks, eyes not leaving the screen in front of him. “You have to stay, Emma, your turn is about to come up!”

“I’ll see you later guys.”

 

* * *

 

The drive from Julian’s flat to Cristina’s house is long and tortuous and no matter how loud Emma plays her music she can’t silence the thoughts of excitement and fear running through her brain.

She feels like she’s been waiting her whole life for this.

She also feels like this is the worst decision she could possibly take.

(The best worst decision possible.)

 

* * *

 

It’s Christmas Eve and Emma knocks on Cristina’s door and she feels like the next minutes of her life are going to be etched into her mind forever.

It feels both terrifying and exhilarating.

 

* * *

 

It’s Christmas Eve and Emma knocks on Cristina’s door.

It’s Christmas Eve and Emma Carstairs is going to tell Cristina Rosales she’s been in love with her for the past 20 years.

It’s Christmas Eve and Emma knocks on Cristina’s door.

(She isn’t the only one.)

 

* * *

 

"Cristina abre la puerta por favor!”

“Ya voy!” Cristina shouts back to her mom and tightens her woolen sweater around her shoulders.

There is a light buzz in the wind for some reason, the air crisp and earthly. A storm must be coming, Cristina thinks.

“Oh,” Cristina breathes out, opening the door, “what are you doing here?”

Diego smiles a radiant smile. The same smile she came here to avoid, and Cristina forces herself to smile back.

“I thought you were—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Diego says. “I uh— I wanted to surprise you, and your mother said she had no problems in adding an extra plate for Christmas dinner. I hope that’s okay.”

Cristina thinks she catches a glimpse of a familiar black car rounding the corner.

“Yeah,” Cristina says, then smiles again. It’s genuine this time. “That’s perfect.”

She kisses Diego on her doorstep and she thinks that maybe she wasn’t trying to run away from him but from the city that kept her away from her home.

She thinks that maybe she can have it all.

 

* * *

 

Emma calls Julian and he picks up in two seconds, sounding like he’s been running a marathon.

“Did you tell her?”

“No,” Emma says. “Guess who showed up.”

“What?”

She takes a deep breath and struggles to ignore h0w frustration feels like someone has taken hold of her throat. “I’m just— Can I come over again?”

“Yeah,” Julian says. “The door’s open.”

 

* * *

 

Emma has to deal with Cristina holding Diego’s hand during the Christmas Eve’s party and when Cristina asks what’s wrong Emma acts like everything is fine and she isn’t falling to pieces.

 

* * *

 

 

Cristina thinks forgetting may have been a good thing after all.

 

* * *

 

"Hey, wait.”

Julian frowns and turns around to see no other than Diego walking his way.

He doesn't know why he's suddenly nervous. “Hello.”

“Hi, Julian,” Diego says formally.

“Hi Cristina’s boyfriend,” Tavvy says, looking up and down at Diego with narrowed eyes and crossed arms. Tavvy had spend most of the party looking at Diego in distrust, and Julian still couldn't understand exactly why.

Diego just smiles. “As happy as that title makes me, my name’s Diego.”

“Oh, I know your name, don't worry. Mine’s Octavian.”

“I heard everyone calling you Tavvy, is that—”

“Octavian,” he says sharply, but it somehow has a cutting edge other than simple teenage annoyance.

Julian snorts.

“Alright—” Diego clears his throat, clearly struggling to maintain a composed face.

“Tavvy,” says Julian, “why don't you go on?”

Tavvy shrugs. “Sure. You know Dad isn't home, right? And Mark says he's on his way but he's not here yet, and Dru—”

“Is locked in her room, I know.” Julian sighs. “Just go on, I'll be there soon.”

Once again, Tavvy shrugs, then he casts another half-glare at Diego and sets down the brief path between Cristina’s house and theirs.

“Family problems?” Diego asks, hands in pockets and curiosity on his face.

“Sorta.”

“Hey, if you need anything—”

“What do you want to talk to me about?” Julian asks a bit forcefully and he thinks he understands Tavvy’s temper now.

“Oh I—” Diego hesitates. “You've known Cristina for a long time, right?”

“Not really, just 20 years give or take.”

Diego laughs even though Julian could not have been more clearly _not_ joking. “Can I tell you something and you promise you won't tell her?”

“If you're cheating on her I will kill you,” Julian deadpans.

Diego laughs again, more nervously this time. “Don't worry, I know, and I think Emma would somehow kill me harder. I'm not cheating on Cristina, God I would never even think about it.”

Julian smiles coldly. “Then you can tell me anything, I'll keep it a secret.”

He's already anticipating the moment when he'll tell Emma.

“I was thinking of,” Diego says carefully, then reaches for his pocket a pulls out a small velvety box and Julian feels like he's been slapped, “giving her this.”

For the first time since talking to him Julian feels something other than annoyance: shock. “You want to _propose?”_

“Shhh! We're kinda still in her front yard!”

Julian blinks, and there is something that doesn't let him breathe easily.

No. No. No. No.

He still thinks this isn't his business.

He also thinks he has a sort of responsibility to both Emma and Cristina.

As their best friend, shouldn't he try his best to make them happy?

(No one can possibly fool Julian. He knows better than anyone—perhaps even better than Emma and Cristina themselves—that the happier they're gonna be is when they finally confess their feelings to each other.)

“I uh—why are you telling me this?”

“Well, because I was planning to do it in New York after New Year's, but after seeing her here I just know… she's happier here than she back there. I want to ask her, here, in New Year’s Eve. I think it can be really romantic. What do you think?”

“Diego,” Julian says, seriously, and a little out of breath, he _could not_ bring himself to answer that question, “are you worried she's gonna say no?”

“Not really,” he says. “But you know Cristina better than anyone and—”

“That's Emma,” Julian says. “Emma knows her better than anyone, not me. You should be talking to her.”

“Yeah but Emma is—Ah, I don't know. Somehow I feel better asking you.”

Julian thinks there's seriously no way Diego can't see it. It's impossible to spend more than two seconds with Cristina and _not_ realize how in love with Emma she is.

Or, maybe, Julian has known it for so long he simply can't fathom the idea of someone not knowing.

Or, maybe, Diego is just telling himself what he wants to believe.

After all, Emma and Cristina had already proven how blind someone could be.

“What are you even asking me? I'm not Cristina’s dad I can't promise her hand in marriage. I'm pretty sure Cristina would kick your ass for partaking in those kind of things.”

Diego laughs. “I just want you to tell me what's her favorite place here, I want to take her there when I ask the question.”

“Oh.”

Julian breathes in and out and there is painful earnestness in Diego’s eyes. It makes Julian feel bad for him, he knows firsthand how hard it is to love someone who is so painfully meant to be with someone else.

And how could Julian tell him Cristina’s favorite place—anywhere—was by Emma's side?

“Any place is fine,” Julian says. “If she truly wants to say yes she'll say it anywhere.”

“You think so?”

Looking over Diego’s shoulder he can see Cristina walking Emma out and helping her with a bunch of tupperwares.

Then, Julian watches them hug like they were saying goodbye forever and not just for tonight.

“Actually, there is one place—”

Julian stares back at Diego’s hopeful smile and he thinks that someone is bound to get their heart shattered.

And it may be selfish, but he finds himself wishing it ends up being Diego and not her best friends.

 

* * *

 

“And give some to Jem and Tessa, would you?”

Emma smiles, already holding too much food on the tupperwares the Rosales pushed into her hands after the party ended. “Yeah, of course.”

“That's enough, Mom,” Cristina says, tugging Emma by the arm towards the kitchen door. “Emma has to drive home, it's time to say goodnight.”

It takes fifteen more minutes before Cristina’s parents finally let her go.

“Sorry about that, they've been complaining about how they don't see you as often anymore.”

“I used to visit a lot when I moved back,” Emma says. “But things have been so crazy lately I've been neglecting your parents, sorry.”

Cristina smiles and she's beautiful in the dim lights of her living room. Emma's hands twitch to hold Cristina’s.

She's tired. So tired. Best friends shouldn't want to hold each other's hands like this.

Cristina walks her out and once the food is safely tucked on Emma's back seat Cristina envelopes her in a hug that leaves Emma thinking this love really is going to both destroy her and make her.

She doesn't know why Cristina’s small gestures always feel so overwhelming. Cristina breathes her in and Emma feels she's going to drown in her feelings for her.

(She wants to tell her so badly.)

The words almost slip out. But she catches a glimpse of Diego talking to Julian not too far away.

Diego.

Cristina’s boyfriend.

Emma pulls away from her best friend and smiles. When Cristina tries to kiss her cheek Emma gets into her car as casually as she can and drives away and doesn't look back.

(She doesn't want to deal with Cristina’s pained and confused eyes.)

 

* * *

 

Emma drags socked-feet across the carpet in the Blackthorn’s house on Christmas morning.

She can't remember the last time she was here, visits became rare after everyone moved out years ago.

Now, only Andrew Blackthorn lives here, though “lives” is relative. The man is more like a ghost these days.

The quiet morning is broken by the delighted cheers of the Blackthorns opening their presents in the living room. Emma smiles, remembering similar scenes from years past.

As she rounds the living room with a smile on her lips Julian takes her by the arm and tugs her in another direction.

“Hey,” Emma says, “merry Christmas Jules, where are we going?”

“I have something to tell you.”

The smile drops from her lips.

“What?”

Julian locks them on his room and Emma thinks of a conversation of years ago when Julian cried and told her his mother was terminally ill.

“Okay so—” Julian begins, taking a deep breath. “I spoke to Diego yesterday.”

“Okay?”

“And—Fuck, Emma, he's going to propose to Cristina.”

Emma thinks the silence that falls upon them is enough to scream the thousand words she can’t say out loud.

“He's going to—” Emma takes a deep breath. “Well, that's great.”

She thinks she's never said such a lie before.

(She has. Whenever she calls Cristina her best friend.)

Julian looks at her like he doesn't know her. Emma doesn't know herself, either.

“That's great? Really?”

“Yeah.”

“But—”

“Jules,” Emma says, smiling sadly. “What do you want me to do? I know you want to help me, but there's nothing—”

“Emma,” Julian says. “What I want you to do is go to Cristina right now and tell her how you feel. Please. Before it's too late.”

Emma swallows and she thinks the grief rising up in her heart should not be as strong as it is. “It's already too late, Jules, she's going to say yes, she loves him.”

“But she doesn't know you love her too.”

“Yeah, I know.” Emma takes a deep breath and smiles again and this time her smile isn't sad but it isn't happy, either. “And it's better if she never knows, believe me.”

 

* * *

 

Emma spends the day on the Blackthorn’s house playing on Tavvy’s new Playstation and watching movies with Dru and catching up with Mark.

She tries not to think about Cristina.

She tries not to think about Cristina and Diego.

She tries not to think about Cristina in a white dress looking at Diego and not at her and kissing Diego and not her.

(She tries.)

She fails.

 

* * *

 

Cristina texts Emma asking if she wants to have lunch and Emma says she's busy.

Cristina knows it's not true but she doesn't ask again.

 

* * *

 

Emma is nearly breathless when she gets home. The thought of Cristina won't leave her alone.

What nearly breaks Emma to pieces is the knowledge that, for the rest of her life, she's gonna be just Cristina’s best friend.

(Best friends tell each other everything.)

(Except for the nights and the kisses and the touches and the feelings they don't mention.)

Emma sits on her bed and stares blankly at the wall and she thinks that if she doesn't do something about this love she feels then she's going to lose her mind.

How will she live the rest of her life like this?

With the weight, the longing—

So much longing.

Emma’s skin still buzzes with a forgotten night and her ears still ring from unspoken words. She feels Cristina’s touch all over her like a whisper on the back of her soul, she remembers stolen kisses and broken promises and she thinks she's never gonna be able to live like this.

Not for much longer.

Not when she's been trying so desperately to move on.

How do you move on from a love like this one?

Emma didn't know love could be this absolute, all she thinks about is Cristina, the biggest constant in her life.

How could she move on?

Emma lies down with a groan and she closes her eyes and she feels the longing on her chest is heavy enough to crush her.

 

* * *

 

Emma meets Cristina at the beach and kisses her under the setting sun.

Emma asks Cristina if she wants to marry her and Cristina says yes and the happiness that overwhelms Emma is bigger than the ocean.

Emma takes Cristina into her arms and she thinks that there isn't anything that could make her feel happier than the touch of their bodies together.

Emma wakes up.

 

* * *

 

 _Julian 7:24pm:_ If you don't tell Cristina you love her I will kick your ass.

 _Emma 7:56pm:_ Stop.

 

* * *

 

“Are you alright Cristina?”

Cristina does her best to smile. “Yeah.”

She doesn't feel very alright.

She hasn't seen Emma all day, and she feels the absence deeply, the parts of her heart that are covered by Emma's name and touch are aching, missing, waiting.

It's just been a day, she tells herself, you've survived years on another city.

But something tells her this is different.

She notices Diego is nervous and she wonders if he can tell.

She wonders if he knows.

(He does.)

(He convinces himself he doesn't.)

 

* * *

 

“Can I come over?” Cristina asks, trembling from the simple fact of Emma answering her phone. It's nearly midnight, but she feels wide awake.

Emma is silent for a long time.

“I'm sorry,” she says. Then another pause. “I'm kinda busy, Tina, I have uh— company. Emily is here.”

Cristina freezes. Of course.

Emma has a life outside of her. Why is that so easy to forget?

“Ah, okay. Well, I'll see you tomorrow.”

Yet another pause.

Cristina tries not to think of pretty Emily leaving hickeys on Emma's neck.

She fails.

“Bye Tina.”

Emma hangs up before Cristina can say I love you.

 

* * *

 

 _Julian 5:26pm_ : Where the hell are you? We haven't seen you in days!

 _Julian 5:43pm:_ Emma what the fuck

 _Julian 7:52pm:_ At least tell me you're okay

 _Emma 9:12pm:_ I'm fine Jules, I've been busy

 _Julian 9:12pm:_ Busy doing what?

 _Julian 9:12pm:_ You know what I don't care. Diego is gonna propose to Cristina tomorrow night.

 _Julian 9:13pm:_ DO. SOMETHING.

 

* * *

 

It's two am and Emma has to keep her hands busy.

It's two am and she sits on the floor of her bedroom and rummages through boxes and boxes of stuff.

She finds old clothes and she folds them and she finds old records and she puts them on the shelves and she finds her old childhood blanket and she thinks it somehow smells like chocolates and Cristina.

She's so tired.

She opens the last box and she yawns, thinking it may be better to leave this one for tomorrow.

(Good thing she doesn't.)

She sees it.

Emma's hands tremble and tears swell in her eyes immediately. She bites down a sob and, carefully as if afraid it may turn to dust in her fingers, she picks it up.

Her mom’s old camera.

It's an old, worn out thing, and Emma doesn't know what she's more scared of: that it may work, or that it may not.

She scoots over until her back is against the wall and she takes a deep breath as she gently presses the power button.

She's crying by the time the first picture comes on. It's her parents standing side by side with goofy smiles and Halloween costumes, barely teenagers.

The next one is just her dad with pancake mix on his cheek. Then another one of him with his violin, and another one of him putting together a table from ikea.

Emma sniffles, consumed by the overwhelming happiness she sees in him.

She gets to the engagement pictures and the wedding pictures and she cries more because they're all blurry and have awful quality and she can't see the dimples on her mom’s cheeks very well.

It hurts.

She misses them.

The hurt of missing them isn't as raw and strong as those first years, when she was a child filled with pain and despair and rage. Now the hurting comes almost softly, the greet of an old friend, and it grows gradually as Emma scrolls through the pictures.

She sees herself as a baby in her mom’s arms and in her dad’s back and she sees herself with a tiny Julian, splashing water on the beach and drawing letters on the sand.

And then she sees herself and Cristina.

Emma laughs, hoarse and hard, as she gets to the pictures of Cristina and her when they were little children.

The first one is like a balm on a tender wound. She stands with Cristina in front of a small skate ring, helmets too big and gap-toothed smiles too wide. Emma smiles fondly at their clasped hands, white knuckles and all.

The second one is the first day of elementary school, Cristina’s hair framed with red ribbons. They hold hands with the same strength and Emma breathes out.

On the third one Emma is on a hospital bed and Cristina is leaned over her, tongue stuck to the corner of her lips in concentration, pen in hand, as she draws on Emma’s cast.

Emma is crying again but for different reasons.

Happiness and sadness are so mixed up together inside of her she doesn't know which is which.

She scrolls through dozens of pictures of Cristina and her. Playing and chatting and smiling, always smiling, always holding hands. Emma feels her heart is going to burst to pieces.

She can see it so clearly.

Her childhood with Cristina flashes before her eyes and she can see it.

She can see it on the way Cristina looks at her, in the way Cristina smiles at her, in the way her eyes are always searching for Emma.

In every picture, in every single one.

Emma can see it.

A picture shows them on the couch of Emma's old house, sharing a blanket and pressed so close together Emma can't tell where she stops and Cristina begins.

It's so painfully obvious.

The pictures stop abruptly, of course, and when she presses “next” and it goes back to the beginning her heart sinks.

She turns off the camera and hugs her knees to her chest.

It was there. On every single photograph, on every single moment, it was there all along, so evident and glaring Emma wonders how she spent twenty years without realizing.

Cristina is in love with her, too.

 

* * *

 

It's three am and Emma knocks on Julian's door.

He opens it five minutes later, shirtless and messy haired and with hazy yet angry eyes. He becomes sharp as soon as he sees Emma, but he loses the edges of annoyance at being woken up.

“Em, what's wrong?”

“Can I stay here? I don't want to be alone tonight.”

“Of course.”

 

* * *

 

Emma drinks hot chocolate and wraps Julian's blanket more tightly around her and it feels like home.

He sits with her on the couch and just listens. He listens without saying anything, his face never changing from a neutral expression.

And Emma speaks.

She speaks of the camera and the photos and she speaks of her feelings and Cristina’s feelings and she speaks of how the thought of Cristina marrying someone else is enough to bring her to her knees.

Julian nods along until she stops speaking.

“So,” he says after a while, “are you gonna tell her?”

She looks at him, trying to find something to tell her this is a bad idea, but she can't find anything. “I think so.”

“Good.”

“You always knew?”

“Yes,” he says. “Always. It’s kinda impossible not to know.”

“And why didn't you say anything until now?”

“Would you have believed me?”

Emma sighs. “No.”

“Besides—I was being selfish, I'm sorry.”

“What? Why selfish?”

A troubled expression comes into his eyes, and for the first time Emma sees something in Julian other than understanding—regret.

“I suppose it doesn't make sense not to tell you but,” he says. “I was in love with you during high school.”

“You were—what?”

He laughs, and his shoulders slump as if releasing a weight. “Yeah. You were my whole world, in a way, and you still kinda are.”

“Jules—”

“It was a long time ago,” he says. “And it was stupid.”

“You never told me.”

“And why would I? I knew that no matter what you may feel for me it would be nothing compared to what you felt for Cristina. Emma, I always _knew_ no one would stand a chance, just like I know it now. Not me, not Cameron, and _definitely_ not Diego.”

Emma closes her eyes and she thinks of Julian's knowing eyes and Cameron saying the exact same thing.

_I knew we wouldn't last._

_No one would stand a chance._

“And yet I still regret not telling you back then,” says Julian. “Which is why I know you'll definitely regret not telling Cristina _now.”_

Emma shrinks into the couch like she wants to disappear. “I know. I'll tell her.”

Julian smiles and Emma scoots next to him and rests her head on his chest. “It's about time, Em.”

 

* * *

 

Emma sleeps huddled next to Julian but she wakes every thirty minutes because the beat of her own heart doesn't let her sleep.

She doesn't dream about Cristina for the first time in days.

 

* * *

 

Cristina thinks Diego is acting strange, odd and nervous, and she wonders if she's done anything wrong.

Anything other than being in love with someone else.

 

* * *

 

Emma hits call on Cristina’s name but it goes to voicemail.

 

* * *

 

Cristina laughs when Diego kisses her and she thinks that it's nice, that he's not acting that weird, that he just doesn't know how to act around her parents.

She's forgotten about Emma, she thinks, Emma is just her best friend.

Diego says he's going to take her on a date to a surprise place and Cristina swoons.

She forgets about the aching on her chest and the need for something she can't have.

Loving Diego is so easy.

It's letting go and it's new beginnings.

 

* * *

 

 

Emma knocks on Cristina’s door and she feels her heart is going to come out of her chest, it beats so fast she's scared she's going to break to pieces.

 

* * *

 

It's Cristina’s mom who opens the door, smiling, and she tells her Cristina is not home, she's out with Diego.

Emma stops by the rose garden on the front yard and stares for longer than necessary.

The world isn't cruel this time, she thinks, it just has horrible timing.

 

* * *

 

“No, don't pick that up,” Diego says, reaching for Cristina’s phone. “C’mon we’re having such a good time, why does your boss keep calling you?”

“I don't know—Oh it's not my boss this time, it's just Emma. Give me one second.”

Usually, Diego always looks unbothered by mentions of Emma, indifferent, except for the times when he mentions it’s cute Cristina has such a close friend.

Now, however, he looks troubled.

Cristina doesn't know why.

(She's forgotten why.)

“Hi,” Cristina says.

“I've been calling you.”

Emma’s voice makes her smile.

“Sorry, I’ve been ignoring my phone to avoid my boss. What’s up?”

“Where are you?”

“Uh with Diego?” Cristina says. “We're in the park. Is something wrong?”

She hears Emma’s short intake of breath and she immediately panics.

“What's going on? Where are _you?”_

“I'm fine,” Emma says quickly. “I'm fine, I just—I really need to talk to you, Tina, it's something important.”

“You want me to come over?”

“I—What park are you in?”

“The one around the corner of my house,” Cristina says, and the wavering note on Emma's tone makes her pause. “Emma?”

 

* * *

 

Before going to Cristina’s house Emma had been filled with static energy. She buzzed, she smiled all the way there, she replayed conversations and moments and memories over and over.

She thought she'd been a fool for not seeing it sooner.

She remembers Cristina holding her in locker rooms and kissing her cheeks and Cristina holding her hand in the way to school and Cristina telling her she loved her for the first time.

In her head, she tells Cristina she is in love with her and Cristina says it back.

Arriving to Cristina’s house and hearing she's  with Diego is like a blow on the solid ground Emma has recently found.

She stumbles, and the conversations she plays in her head are different.

She remembers Cristina saying over the phone she was dating a new guy named Diego and Cristina saying she was in love with him and Cristina kissing him and smiling at him in front of a crowd.

And now Emma sees Cristina and Diego sitting on a park bench and his arm is around her shoulders and she leans against him, with the easiness of two people used to living a routine, used to spending so much time together.

Emma has always dreamed that, perhaps one day, she and Cristina could be like that.

But perhaps deep down she’s always known it was wishful thinking.

She thinks of old pictures and vivid memories, she remembers half-confessions in her friend’s basement and whispered lies in a cramped dark room and she thinks that maybe, just maybe, those weren’t lies after all.

The pictures are old, as are Emma’s memories. Looking at Cristina with Diego now, she wonders if Cristina’s feelings—so evident in still motions—are gone now.

 

* * *

 

“Emma?” Cristina asks again, frowning. “Are you there?”

“Is she okay?” Diego asks, brushing a strand of hair out of Cristina’s face.

Cristina listens to the silence on the other end of the line and something akin to dread begins to form in her chest. “I don’t know.”

 

* * *

 

Emma can’t do this.

Not when Cristina has moved on.

(Not when Cristina has forgotten.)

“I’m okay,” she says into the phone. “It’s fine, don't worry about it. I’ll see you later.”

Emma thinks a New Year’s Eve has never felt so bitter before.

 

* * *

 

Emma gets in her car and she drives back home and she doesn’t think about lost chances and regrets and instead she just thinks of bad timing and being late.

Being way too late.

 

* * *

 

Emma Carstairs is twenty six years old when she decides to let go of Cristina Rosales.

It doesn’t happen gradually, over the course of a long, drawn-out realization.

It happens suddenly, in a burst of anger and frustration.

Emma makes the decision as she speeds up the Pacific Coast Highway and leaves behind the girl she’s loved for the last twenty years. And she leaves her behind because that girl is not in love with her.

Not anymore, at least.

Emma thinks letting go it’s the hardest thing she’s ever had to do, but once she gets home she thinks it’s also the thing she needs.

(But not what she wants.)

 

* * *

 

“Are you going to tell me where you’re going?”

Diego smiles, buttoning up his shirt. “Nope. That’s the whole point of a surprise, Cristina.”

“Why are you being so mysterious anyways?”

“If I told you that,” he says, “it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

Cristina laughs and finishes dressing up and she doesn’t think about the fact that Diego doesn’t seem nervous anymore, if anything he seems the most confident she’s seen him in a while.

She doesn’t know why that is, and she doesn’t wonder.

 

* * *

 

“Hello?”

“Hi,” Cristina says. “Is everything really okay?”

Emma is silent for a few seconds and then there’s a stifled groan and Cristina can practically see Emma stretching on her bed.

“Yeah,” Emma says, voice a little hoarse. “I was just taking a nap. Why?”

“I don’t know, when you called earlier you seemed worried about something.”

“I’m fine,” Emma answers quickly. “I heard you have a date tonight.”

“I do, actually. We’re just getting ready, but Diego won’t tell me where we’re going.”

“That’s great. Have fun.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you tonight, right? At Julian’s?”

“Yeah,” Emma whispers, and her voice is slow and slurred. Cristina frowns, feeling bad she woke her up for no reason at all. “Of course, I’ll be there.”

“Great,” Cristina says. “Can’t wait.”

“Yeah, Tina,” Emma says carefully. “Can’t wait.”

 

* * *

 

Emma does her own makeup and she dresses nicely and she’s even a little excited about it all but in the end she still wants to cry and she can’t get rid of that no matter how hard she tries.

 

* * *

 

Emma lets herself in when she arrives to the Blackthorn’s house in the hopes Julian won’t be the first person she sees but she hasn’t had any luck lately.

Julian doesn’t have to say anything, and Emma doesn’t feel she _has_ anything to say.

She hugs him, and Julian sighs and hugs her back.

“I didn’t tell her.”

“I know.”

“I was too scared,” she says. “And I’m an idiot, Julian.”

“I know.”

She thinks it’s both a blessing and a curse to have someone who understands her as much as Julian does. Especially when she doesn’t understand herself.

“She’s gonna say yes,” Emma whispers into Julian’s chest. “They’re gonna get married, and I’m gonna stay her best friend forever.”

Julian doesn’t say anything, not even when she starts crying.

 

* * *

 

“I heard this was your favorite restaurant,” Diego says.

Cristina tries to ignore the fact she’s known where they were going to for the last fifteen minutes—it’s hard to keep a secret when you’re taking a taxi, after all.

And she also tries to ignore the fact this is definitely not her favorite restaurant.

She smiles at Diego anyways. “Who told you that?”

“Julian did,” he says. “I asked him for your favorite ones in the city, I wanted to do something nice.”

“Ah I see.” Cristina laughs but not particularly because Diego said something funny. “Thanks, I love it.”

Diego takes her hand and kisses her. “And I love you.”

Cristina smiles.

 

* * *

 

“Why are you here all broody?”

Emma looks up from the glass of wine she’s been nursing and meets Mark’s eyes as he sits down next to her. Emma thinks that Mark’s nice clothes and nice hair don’t go at all with the worn out foldable chairs in the backyard.

“Party’s inside you know,” Mark says.

Emma just shrugs. She can hear the “party” all the way there, the cheery music and the happy voices and the laughter, accompanied by the sound of Tavvy and some of his school friends lighting up small fireworks in the front street.

It’s all so magical and perfect but Emma can’t stop thinking about Cristina.

She can’t stop thinking about the fact Cristina is gonna be here in a few hours and she can’t stop thinking about the fact Cristina is gonna have a brand new engagement ring and Emma is gonna have to deal with that.

Emma doesn’t know how to deal with that.

“Julian didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” Mark says.

“Cristina is going to marry Diego,” Emma says, sighing. “He’s probably proposing as we speak.”

“Is he now?” Mark says, leaning back on the chair. “And that bothers you?”

“Of course it does,” Emma bites out. “It shouldn’t bother me, but it does, and I hate that.”

“Why shouldn’t it bother you? You’re in love with her, it only makes sense you’re gonna be bothered by something like this.”

Emma starts for a moment. She’s not used to anyone but Julian knowing about her feelings for Cristina, it’s easy to forget apparently it’s common knowledge among everyone that knows her. It seems that includes Mark, too.

“But either way, I’m just her best friend,” Emma says. “Shouldn’t I be happy for her?”

“You should,” Mark says. “But you’re not. What’s so bad about that?”

“I’m a horrible friend, Mark.”

He laughs. “I don’t think you are. You haven’t told her how you feel, right?”

Emma groans. “No, I haven’t. I feel I’ve had this conversation with Julian a dozen times already.”

“Then don’t have it again with me,” Mark says. “Let’s talk about something else. Did you know a hummingbird weighs less than a penny?”

“I—what?”

“Yeah. And mountain lions can whistle. Did you know that?”

“I didn’t.”

“I’ve been spending time with Ty lately,” Mark says, his eyes now lost in the night sky. “It’s hard, with him studying that far away, but we’re making it work.”

Emma hums and listens, and Mark speaks. He speaks for a long time about his family, his work, his life, and Emma answers with similar topics about herself. And it’s nice, she hasn’t spoken to Mark like this since—since forever.

For the short while they’re together she allows herself to forget about Cristina, and it’s surprisingly easy, because even though Mark _knows_ he doesn’t ask any questions and he never implies anything the way everyone else does.

When Mark offers to refill her glass of wine Emma says that it’s fine, that she wants to go back to the party anyways.

She didn’t think her mood would improve at all tonight, but when she smiles it’s genuine and when she laughs it’s genuine and she doesn’t think of what may happen later.

It’s a relief. The first drop of relief she’s felt in a while.

 

* * *

 

Cristina laughs at the things Diego says and she smiles at him and she feels so much like those first months when they went on dates and talked for hours and hours without getting tired.

“This is not really your favorite restaurant, is it?” He asks.

“How did you know?”

“You’ve been staring at the menu for the last fifteen minutes.”

She laughs softly. “No, Diego, this is not really my favorite restaurant.”

“So Julian lied to me.” He sighs. “Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know,” Cristina says honestly.

Perhaps in another time she would’ve known why. Now she just feels like she’s forgetting something really important.

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” Diego says. “Cristina I have something I want to tell you, or, rather, I have something I want to _ask_ you.”

Cristina leans over the table and tilts her head. “What is it?”

Diego takes a deep breath and his eyes dart nervously from her face to the table like he’s looking for something— like he’s looking for courage.

“Cristina I've been in love with you for a long, long time now, and since we started dating I knew you were the girl of my dreams—”

Cristina takes a sharp breath and only now she realizes what's coming.

 

* * *

 

“Julian?”

Julian turns to find Helen staring at him with just a bit of concern.

“Are you okay?” She asks. “You're staring at Emma like someone is going to attack her at any second.”

He sighs, unclenching his jaw and his shoulders. “I'm okay, I'm just worried about her.”

Helen stands next to him and they both watch Emma, glass of wine in hand, as she throws her head back and laughs at something Dru said.

“She seems to be doing fine,” Helen says.

Or course, she can't see the lingering hurt and regret on Emma's eyes, not like Julian can.

“For now,” he says.

“It's gonna be fine, Jules,” Helen says. “They'll be okay.”

Julian checks his watch and it's just an hour before midnight and he sighs.

“I did everything I could,” Julian says. “Too bad it wasn't enough.”

 

* * *

 

“So, Cristina,” Diego says. He's in one knee and everyone in the restaurant keeps glancing at them and at the ring Diego is holding and Cristina is blushing. “Will you marry me?”

She takes a deep breath, her heart hammering, and smiles.

 

* * *

 

Emma sits on the roof just outside Julian's bedroom window and she thinks back at so many years ago when she saw Cristina for the first time.

Glass of wine forgotten somewhere, Emma lies down on her back and listens to Tavvy cracking fireworks and the laughter of his friends just down the street.

The night sky is beautiful, and Emma forgets to feel regret.

She forgets to feel anything at all.

 

* * *

 

“Thinking of being an astronaut again?”

Emma grins at Cristina’s voice, but she doesn't move. She's happy that Cristina is here, but she doesn't want to see her.

Not yet.

Cristina lies down besides her and their shoulders brush and warm spreads through Emma's veins. Incredible how Cristina’s presence is enough to dispel the coldest of nights.

“Yeah,” Emma whispers. “If only someone hadn't crushed my dreams saying I'd be terrible at it.”

Cristina laughs. “How long have you been up here? It's nearly midnight.”

“I don't know.”

“You'll catch a cold.”

Emma laughs but she doesn't say anything else and she thinks the silence between them will cut her in half.

“Why are you up here, Emma?”

“I don't know,” she says. “Why are _you_ up here?”

“I came looking for you.”

“Why?”

She feels Cristina taking a deep breath and Emma knows what's coming.

“Diego proposed tonight.”

“I know,” Emma says.

“You knew? Really?”

“Yeah. Diego told Julian, and then Julian told me.”

“And none of you told me.”

“It was supposed to be a secret,” Emma says, then she closes her eyes. “Congratulations, by the way.”

“Congratulations for what?”

“Getting engaged,” she says, frowning. “I feel that's something I should congratulate you on.”

Emma feels Cristina sitting down and she slowly opens her eyes. Cristina is looking at her with clear eyes and pursed lips, like she's considering—

“I'm not engaged, Emma,” Cristina says.

Emma also sits up, legs dangling from the edge of the roof. “You're not? You said no?”

“I did.”

“But—” Emma blinks. “Why? I thought you loved Diego.”

Cristina takes a deep breath and tucks her legs against her chest. She looks beautiful, Emma thinks, with her hair done in curls and a black dress and those enthralling eyes of tea and honey.

“I do love him,” Cristina says softly. “But there's a difference between loving someone and wanting to spend the rest of your life with them. Diego proposing made me realize he's not that person I want to grow old with.”

“Oh.” Emma breathes out.

“I've known him for so long—I should've realized that along the way, now I just feel like I made him waste his time.”

“Don't say that. Time with you can never be wasted time, you're amazing.”

Cristina smiles, but she tightens her own grip around her legs. “Thanks.”

“Was it—hard? To let go like that?”

“Yes,” Cristina says. “Of course it was, but at the same time it wasn't. I feel like with him I've just been holding my breath, waiting for something—or someone to come along. It wasn't fair to Diego, but I never had the courage to leave him.”

“Until now,” Emma says.

“Until now,” Cristina agrees. “Marriage can change your perspective on things, I guess. It was still hard, especially for Diego, but somehow I feel he knew it was coming.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. He said he could feel me waiting.”

“And are you still waiting?”

Cristina lowers her eyes and she doesn't see how Emma is looking at her: with stars and hopes and a rising tide of emotion.

“No,” Cristina says. “I think I'm tired of waiting.”

“Tina—”

Cristina looks up now, and Emma forgets what she was about to say in the first place.

Perhaps is dumb, and perhaps it makes no sense, or perhaps it's just her imagination, but she _swears_ Cristina’s eyes are the same way they were in pictures of years and years ago.

“I know what I've been waiting for,” Cristina says. “And I know _who_ I've been waiting for, and it's probably not meant to be, but shouldn't I say it anyways?”

Emma bites her lip. “Yeah, I think you should.”

“But it scares me,” Cristina whispers. “It scares me like nothing else in this world, thinking that maybe they won't—”

“I love you, Tina.”

 

* * *

 

 

Cristina’s heart stops for a second before she shoves down the overwhelming joy rising within her.

Emma doesn't mean it like that.

She smiles. “I love you, too, Emma, you know that.”

And she means it more than—

 

* * *

 

“No,” Emma says. “No, Tina, I don't mean it like that.”

“Then what do you mean?”

 

* * *

 

They go back to the memories they never talked about again. They allow themselves to think about the things they don't mention, and for the first time in forever they both think that perhaps they should've mentioned it all.

 

* * *

 

Emma can't bring herself to look at Cristina when she says it.

“I'm in love with you.”

On the front street, kids have gone to their houses, and after a heartbeat of silence the cheering carries all the way to this lonely rooftop.

Fireworks explode in front of Emma in a burst of colors, and she's dying to see Cristina’s face, but she keeps her eyes forward and pretends to be watching the lights in the sky when in reality all she wants to look at is her best friend.

“Happy new year,” Emma says, wanting so desperately to break the silence between them.

No one goes to look for them.

 

* * *

 

Cristina is so stunned—so lost in memories and missed signs—she barely notices when Emma stands up and starts walking towards the window to get back inside.

“Wait!” Cristina scrambles to her feet so quickly she nearly stumbles but she doesn't care. “Emma, you're—you're what?”

Emma stares at her, one hand on Cristina’s arm because she had tried to help her keep her balance.

Cristina didn't notice right away, but she notices now. Emma somehow is always there to help her keep her balance.

“I'm kinda tired of waiting too, Tina,” Emma says. “I _love_ you, not just as my friend, but as the girl I want to grow old with. For me, you're the ‘someone’ I've been waiting to come along, you're my everything.”

Cristina feels the ache in her chest dissolve for the first time in years. She breathes in, a little frantically, like this is the very first breath of air she has, like only now she's been given the right to breathe.

Emma stares at her with adoration in her eyes, and all is quiet. Cristina can still see the flashes of distant fireworks reflect on Emma's face, but all is quiet, all is still.

“Cristina,” Emma says unevenly, pleading, and Cristina blinks at the sound of her own name. It has always been strange to hear Emma say it. “Please, say something?”

But words escape her, her chest too filled with Emma's confession and Emma's adoring eyes and the evident fear that drips through the edges of Emma's voice.

And Cristina can barely wrap her head around what she just heard.

Emma loves her.

Emma is in love with her.

How do you respond with words to such a revelation?

So she doesn't use her words.

Cristina kisses Emma in the changing light of dozens of fireworks but she thinks the true colors are the ones being born behind her eyelids when Emma kisses her back.

There is something holy about the kiss, there's the calm of coming home after a long journey, there's something sacred in the way Emma holds her face, so tenderly. Loving. There are promises and unspoken things being unraveled around them and they speak of them for the first time.

“I'm in love with you too,” Cristina whispers against Emma's lips because she thinks if she doesn't say it she's going to collapse with the pressure of it.

And when Emma smiles, radiantly and like the sun has suddenly come out at night, Cristina wonders how she ever thought loving Emma was hard and complicated, she wonders how she ever mistook the warm love in her chest for an aching, how she even thought the strength of this love was suffocating when in reality she feels this is the only thing that has kept her going all this time.

“You are?” Emma whispers and there's still a manner of uncertainty on her voice and Cristina thinks she never wants to hear that uncertainty on Emma ever again.

“Yes,” she says. “I am. I am so in love with you it's overwhelming, sometimes I feel like that's all I have in me.”

Cristina waits for Emma's smile, for any manner of pure joy and glee, but instead Emma sighs, softly and carefully, and rests her forehead against Cristina’s.

“All this time?”

“Yes,” Cristina murmurs, fireworks still echoing in the distance, but she thinks she's going to shatter the eternity of this moment if she speaks any louder.

Emma kisses her this time, gently and quietly, away from storage rooms and twin beds and dark bedrooms, away from unspoken things and forgotten feelings.

Cristina thinks she never truly forgot.

(She never really tried.)

 

* * *

 

Cristina kisses her back and Emma's entire body relaxes for perhaps the first time in twenty years. She thinks this is where she was supposed to be all along.

She thinks it's not possible this small rooftop is enough to hold the weight and the magnitude of this moment, she thinks her own overwhelming happiness should be enough to shatter the entire place down.

Cristina kisses her back and wraps her arms around her neck and there is a soft whimper that comes from the back of her throat when Emma moves forward.

And Emma is intoxicated and she can barely breathe and _this_ is the second she would like to freeze and remember for the rest of her life.

When Cristina leans back Emma gets a glimpse of the moon still hanging above them, though she thinks that what just happened should have struck it down from the sky.

“I love you,” Cristina says, running a finger down the length of Emma's jaw. “I love you, Emma Carstairs.”

Emma sighs. “I love you too.”

And now they know how much the other means it.

 

* * *

 

Cristina and Emma finally come back from the roof and they're holding hands and giggling and blushing and Julian's heart soars.

 _Finally,_ he thinks. And the exact same thought goes through the head of everyone in the room.

 

* * *

 

“So what are we going to do?” Emma asks later, way later, that night, when she and Cristina are alone again and in the quietness of Emma's bedroom.

The scene feels all too familiar and all too new at the same time.

Cristina shifts a little, head resting on the space between Emma's neck and shoulder, one hand warmly settled on the curve of Emma's waist.

“I'm going to move back home,” Cristina says. “I'm tired of New York anyways.”

“But your job—”

“I'll quit,” Cristina says. “I don't care about my job, I just want to be with you.”

Emma smiles, running her hand through Cristina’s hair. “That's good to hear.”

“It's good to say it.” Cristina leans forward and leaves a kiss on Emma's cheek. “Happy new year, by the way, I don't think I ever said it back.”

Emma kisses Cristina and there's so much _freedom_ in the gesture.

“Happy new year, Tina.”

 

* * *

 

Cristina looks at the last of her luggage and sighs. She fills a last duffel bag with some stray items and sighs.

Diego brews coffee in the kitchen and Emma sits awkwardly in one of the stools, kicking her feet back and forth.

“I'm ready,” Cristina finally says and both Diego and Emma turn to look at her. If they think it's weird they don't mention it. “Let's go.”

Emma jumps to her feet and moves to take the cardboard boxes, she says a polite goodbye to Diego and smiles at Cristina on her way out. Cristina mouths a thank you and Emma nods.

“So you're really gonna let me keep the apartment?” Diego asks.

“Yeah,” she says. “I don't really need it anymore, and I know Jaime has been wanting to try his luck here.”

Diego runs a hand through his hair, then rubs his eyes. He seems tired with messy hair and bags under his eyes and a slouched posture.

No, not tired. He just seems sad.

“I'm sorry,” Cristina says.

“Don't be sorry. I should've seen it sooner.” He shakes his head. “It doesn't matter, Cristina, I'm still glad for the two of you.”

She knows it's a lie.

“Some people are just not meant to be,” Diego says. “But some people… are just perfect for each other, and that's you and Emma. I know you think I'm lying, but I'm not.”

Cristina doesn't know what to say other than: “Thank you, Diego.”

Diego smiles and just nods towards the door. “You make a good couple, always have.”

She smiles and gives him a hug, and it feels like letting go. _Truly_ letting go.

Emma waits for her leaning against her car, sunglasses ringed up on the top of her head, intensely staring at the screen of her phone.

“That game is seriously out of date,” Cristina says, looking over Emma's shoulder.

“Fruit Ninja will never be out of date,” Emma mumbles. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Cristina says. “Shall we?”

“Yup.” Emma puts her phone in her pocket and takes the last bags from Cristina’s hands. “You want me to take first shift?”

“You took the last one,” Cristina says. “I'll do it.”

“Okay… Here we go, LA, see you in another 60 hours.”

Cristina rolls her eyes at Emma's grumbles. “You were the one that wanted to road trip.”

“I thought it'd be fun!”

“It is being fun, relax,” Cristina says. “What part of spending 60 hours in a car with my girlfriend is _not_ fun?”

“You have a way of saying things when I never know if you're being sarcastic or not.”

Cristina smiles, leaving a light peck on Emma's lips. “I love you, silly, it feels like 60 hours on a roadtrip are not enough.”

“Aw, Tina, that's the most romantic thing you've said.”

Cristina fixes the rearview mirror and laughs and she lets Emma run a hand through her hair as she starts up the engine. “I thought you'd be used to it by now.”

“I spent twenty years waiting,” Emma says, kicking up her feet in the dashboard. “I won't get used to it in a few months.”

Cristina glances at her out of the corner of her eye, and she sees Emma with her head slightly thrown back and her hair free and her shoulders relaxed and Cristina feels a grin forming on her lips before she can even think about it.

“I love you.”

Emma closes her eyes and smiles as if the words were a tender caress. “Another thing I won't get used to hearing any time soon.”

“I've been saying that for years!”

“Not like that,” Emma says, then reaches for one of Cristina’s hand and kisses it. “Not like _this._ Not like I always wanted.”

“Get used to it, I'll be saying it a lot.”

Emma's smile widens, if that's even possible. “I know, and I love you too.”

They listen to music and somehow don't stop talking for the 60 whole hours and they don't run out of things to say.

Cristina thinks she's never felt more at home.

 

* * *

 

Emma drives at night and whenever she hits a red light she stares at Cristina quietly sleeping on the passenger seat and thinks how could the universe grant her something like this.

She thinks all the years she waited were worth it, and she would wait twenty more if it meant being able to pull a blanket over Cristina and kiss her forehead like this.

Not like best friends, but something else.

Something holy and sacred.

She thinks her love for Cristina has always been the best part of her.

 

* * *

 

Emma and Cristina move in together to a new, cozier apartment, and they decorate it themselves and Julian gives them an art piece to hang on their living room and it's a piece they've seen before, on his very first gallery show.

He calls it The Long Path to True Love.

If they cry a little when he explains the meaning of it then Julian doesn't say anything.

 

* * *

 

Jem gives them a cat for their new place and it's the worst-tempered cat in the world but Emma loves him and in turn Cristina loves him as well.

They spend their days going on silly dates to parks and coming home early to watch TV and make dinner and Emma brings Cristina lunch at her new job and they have sleepovers technically every night.

And eventually living together becomes routine and Cristina does Emma's makeup on the mornings and they share clothes and Emma brings breakfast to bed and I love yous stumble from their lips every hour of the day, sweet and saccharine and heartful. Always.

And to think they both used to feel like falling in love with your best friend was the greatest curse of all.

 

* * *

 

“You look beautiful,” Emma whispers into Cristina’s ear. “You always look beautiful, but tonight more than always.”

Cristina blushes and smiles and reminds herself she shouldn't kiss Emma just yet.

“Thanks,” Cristina says. “But I think white looks better on you.”

 

* * *

 

Emma Carstairs is twenty seven years old when she marries Cristina Rosales.

They mention that night for the rest of their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much to everyone who read, liked and commented in this story, what began as an experiment really ended up becoming something very precious to me, i had tons of fun writing this fic and i'm pretty pleased with the end result (which i never am lmao) once again thanks for the support you've all been amazing! until next time x


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